The Tempest
by Val Evenstar
Summary: Fang is keeping secrets: he knows Max's destiny and who her parents are. Because he killed her mother. COMPLETE
1. Prelude

**Author's Note:** OK. First things first. _IF YOU'RE 14 OR UNDER, PLEASE DON'T, AND I REPEAT DON'T, READ THIS. _If you're under 14, lemme know and I promise I'll write a full-length thing for you guys as soon as I can think of a good idea for one. This is not the humorous light-hearted stuff of my previous MR fics. More like the story on my profile page, but sort of like the dark side of that. This is not rated T for profanity or sexuality, but it has some really dark themes and elements. Like a pitch black sky with occasional flashes of light. Until the end, of course, when everything turns upside down...

Some parts may be rated M, and I'll warn you before then. I'll post a summary on my profile page for those who don't want to read those parts. Yeah, and there will be mucho de Faxness at the end, but hopefully different than you'll expect...

OK, so now the creepy prelude.. prelude, not prologue, cuz prologues are boring but preludes set the mood for the whole musical piece. Or story, in this case. Don't kill me for the cliffhanger, I'll post Chapter 1 in a week (or sooner if you review a whole lot).

Right, let's do this! It'll be novella length at least. And I'm already thinking on a sequel. If I ever finish this, that is.

_**I'm diving in, **_

_**I'm going deep,**_

_**In o'er my head I wanna be,**_

_**Lost in the flood,**_

_**Caught in the flow,**_

_**In o'er my head I wanna go,**_

_**The River's deep,**_

_**The River's wide,**_

_**The River's Water is alive,**_

_**I'm diving in,**_

_**I'm going deep,**_

_**I**__**'m diving in! **_

_**- **some song I wish I had but can't even remember the name of. But that's how I feel right now._

So, without further ado...

* * *

**The Tempest**

**Prelude**

You think you know me? Well, you don't. No one does. I know Max wrote books about us - the Flock - and our wonderful lives. So you know me like she knows me.

She's my best friend and she doesn't know me at all.

I've been hiding things, you see, hiding them for years. I'm so good at hiding things that I think I may be hidden, too, buried along with my secrets.

If I can't tell her, I can't tell anyone.

But I know I can't tell her. Ever.

My name is Fang and I wear black. There's a reason for both of those, and it's the same reason why I can't open up to anyone, tell any secrets.

Not even to Max. Especially not to Max.

Because I know her destiny.

Because I killed her mother.


	2. Part 1  The Signs

**Author's Note:** More dark, Fang-ish thoughts. If you think it's OOC, read the prologue. My built-in poetic license. And the thing with the tenses is intentional. It'll all become clear later. Thanks to my best friend for tolerating me shoving this story and the MR series practically down her throat. And for helpful hints, critique, spellcheck, Russian names, and overall coolness that she brings to just about everything. Also thanks to all you who reviewed.

Oh, and about the dates... I assumed that the events of The Angel Experiment took place in 2005, when the book was published. Since School's Out- Forever took place pre-Thanksgiving 2005, and they'd been there at least a month beforehand, I decided that the trip to the School must've taken place in September 2005 (Ella was in school, remember? And besides, who would seriously fly to Death Valley in the summer?). I found some dates on Fang's blog, but they didn't jive with the whole storyline and publishing dates, so I'll discount them. Also, thanks to Myrah's notes in her story A Little Place Called Home (good story!) for the possible locations of the Flock's home. I like Colorado better too. I would've put them near Cheyenne Mountain, CO, but that would've been a little too much. SG-1 fans know what I mean...

**_

* * *

_**

_**Mountains of Colorado**_

_**September 4, 2005**_

I'll start where Max started. With a nightmare. Only mine is real, and it hasn't ended.

Like hers, mine started in the School. It laid low for the four years we lived in freedom, but it hadn't disappeared. Hasn't. I was a fool to think that it would ever end.

Just when I had started to make myself forget, it emerged again - bigger and stronger than ever.

They took Angel. But you know about that. Max wrote about that. I don't want to have to remember that again. I don't even want to write about it.

It was more than them taking Angel - dear Angel, my opposite and, sometimes, my inspiration. Taking care of her and teaching her how to read and fight had...

Oh, God, what have I done? How could I just let them take her? She was just starting to heal me... to show me that there was something besides the darkness I lived in. She gave me hope - hope that I could trust people, and hope that I could one day tell Max.

Max. I remember flying home with her on that terrible day. She was crying silently, and her knuckles were bloodied and bruised, and not from fighting the Erasers either.

We'd landed early, in the woods near our home, while the others flew on over us. I could see the anguish on her face, because she'd just lost her little girl. We walked in silence. I didn't have the courage to speak to her and offer comfort. Some best friend I was. Am.

I knew it was the beginning of her nightmare, and I couldn't even tell her.

"Fang," she'd said. She was trying to play tough, pull herself together to be the Maxinator, but she couldn't do it. She started crying into her sleeve. I moved closer, but I didn't dare touch her, in case she somehow sensed my secret guilt...

"I wish Jeb were here," she murmured, so soft I almost didn't hear.

_No, Max, no, you don't want tha_t, I thought desperately.

"I can't do this myself... I'm just a kid.. and I should have parents, so they could take care of this and..."

I looked away, feeling her razor words shred my heart. _You can't ever have parents, Max_, I wept silently. _Because of me. And I know you're counting on me, but you just can't... I'm a _murderer_, Max, I've done terrible things..._

But that's not what I said. I said what she wanted to hear. "I'll help you, Max," I said. "You're not in this alone."

I didn't mean it.

Well, I did mean it, but not enough to tell her. Not even the little things.

And I had the nerve to call myself her best friend.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**Death Valley, CA**_

_**July 8, 2001**_

I can hear them out there, in the yard. It's late afternoon and the sun creeps through the small slits of windows in our room. The cage next to mine is empty. I strain against the bars of my crate, and am rewarded with aching muscles and the tiniest view through the window.

There's a clang; the gates are open. I hear screams of terror from the chimps, and then another sound... a voice. Max's voice, screaming as the Erasers morph and attack. Blurred forms rush in front of the window, one grey, one red, so fast I can't tell. I hear the thud of fists on flesh, the crack of bones, a death shout. I don't want to know where this is going.

But since I can know, I look.

I start with the thread I got this morning - a technician grumbling to himself as he fed us. What did he say?

_"Well, billion-dollar babies, more testing today. What a surprise. The usual, and then a psych test for some, reflex and endurance, and... hmm.. I forgot to tell my wife about the car insurance..."_

Reflex and endurance. I follow that thread to the two whitecoats who are in charge of the experiments on us. Keeping that in my head, three bright streamers of color, I reach out to the Erasers. I pick out the individual voices and occasional words and emotions, and follow them back to the whitecoat overseeing the testing. Bright lines criss-cross my mind's eye as I follow the last thread.

I hesitate a second, afraid of what I might see, but then I continue. I see the test he's planned, and I see that he will let Max live. A wave of relief washes down my spine, but I know there's more. The whitecoat wants to test her reactions to pain, too, to see if they should upgrade her...

I silently hiss every curse I know at the whitecoat, because he wants at least two bones broken before he'll consider it a proper test.

I can't watch anymore. I know what's coming, if everything goes according to their plans. Max won't be next to me tonight.

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Hmmm, pretty much a transition chapter. Oh, except for the partial revelation of Fang's power. AND NO HE DOES NOT READ MINDS!!! In fact, what I thought up is so atypical that I've never even heard of something like it before...Next chapter coming either next week or as soon as I get 20 or so reviews.. yes this is extortion, but so what? 


	3. Part 1: The Signs, cont'd

**Author's note**: I've just got to say. Who would put a top-secret facility in a national park? FYI, Death Valley is pretty much a national park and 'biosphere reserve'. So it'd be a little hard to keep, say, Greenpeace from investigating leads on mutant coyotes and misuse of the ecosystem, for crying out loud! Yeah, I don't really relate to Greenpeace and related left-wing orgs. Anyhow. Big, important chapter. Don't miss it! We learn Fang's power, and introduce a very special new character. Hope it clears up any confusion. Enjoy!!!

* * *

_**Mountains of Colorado**_

_**September 4, 2005**_

I'd never known until I was older. I could see plans in people's heads, and I could see how they reached out and involved other people, until a whole network was drawn in my mind. I'd thought everyone could see these things - they were just so obvious. Logical. It wasn't too different from the techniques Sherlock Holmes used, I guess, except that mine was ... exceptional. Built-in. Natural. If I knew only pieces of a plan, I could connect them together, through people, to get the whole picture.

Only through living things, though. A plan on paper or computer meant a dead-end for me. And by the way, the Earth is not alive. It's not even dying - it's already dead, though it may seem alive. Almost like me.

I saw the first small tendrils of a plan forming between myself and Max. A plan to rescue Angel, even though that would only suck us deeper into the whitecoats' trap.

But we had to rescue Angel, for her sake and for ours. We couldn't abandon her just to get out of the Plan.

Once I had beaten the Plan. And it had destroyed me.

_Never again, and not to Max or Angel,_ I swore to myself. We'll do what the whitecoats want because at least we'll know what's coming. If we don't... things could be so much worse.

I popped the wax seal on an old manila envelope.

"What's that?" the Gasman asked, blue eyes wide and reddened around the edges.

"Map," I answered, feeling nausea tug at my gut.

"Map of what?" Nudge asked, sniffling.

"Map of a secret facility," Max said, copying my style of incomplete sentences. "In California. The School."

We were going back. Back to whitecoats and their tortures, back to their prisons and plans. Because there wasn't any other way.

_**

* * *

**_

_**The Laboratory**_

_**Saratov, USSR**_

_**January 12, 1990**_

She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her brow as she carefully calibrated the instrument. With the slightest nudge, she moved the microscopic needle, tracking it with the monochrome monitor in front of her. It showed the needle and the egg, both whole and working well. She painstakingly tapped the control in her hand. The needle slid through the egg's membrane and pumped in the DNA strand. She quickly cut off the flow of DNA before the egg exploded.

Taking a deep breath, she swept a hand across her forehead and leaned back in the chair. "It's done," she announced.

Her husband straightened. He'd been leaning over her, watching the process with bated breath. "Excellent, Tanya. Excellent."

They stared together at the small egg on the screen. This was their lives' work – a single cell, filled with spliced DNA from two different species. Ten years of effort had produced the DNA work alone. Another five had passed before they had a viable procedure for introducing it into an egg.

Tanya tilted her head back and up, smiling softly at her husband. "What's next?" she asked, but she already knew.

Her husband stuck his hands in the oversized pockets of his lab coat. "Fertilization. Implantation," he answered automatically, then looked down at her, worry in his eyes. "You sure you want to go through with this?" he asked softly.

Tanya gazed at the egg on the screen. She'd been head of the experiment for five years. This dream of hers had created the whole Organization. If she took the next step, she could even become the head of the entire Project.

"Yes," she answered curtly. Then she gave a soft laugh. "This may be the first time in history that having a baby advances a woman's career."

Her husband smiled and offered her his hand. She took it and rose. He pulled her into an embrace.

She rested her head on his chest, looking back at the image on the monitor. "Our future," she sighed. "Doesn't it look wonderful, Jeb?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ha, ha, ha (does evil little dance)! How do you like my Tanya? Don't worry, she's not a Mary-Sue. By the way, I defy anyone to have ever heard of a power like the one I gave Fang – and if anyone has, please let me know so I can sue Marvel Comics or whoever makes those things up. Sorry this was short, but from now on, we will only accelerate... try to hang on! REVIEW!!!! 


	4. Still Part 1: The Signs, cont'd

**Author's Note: **I've just finished Part 2 – and this Tempest is now 100 pages long (gasp)! I've never written anything this long before – and it's not even finished yet! In other news, Jesus loves you, in case you haven't heard. Enjoy this chapter! It's a little dark but nothing, and I mean nothing, compared to what's coming (I say that a lot, don't I?). Oh, and Jeb and Tanya are allowed to kiss and stuff because they're married. For extended author's notes, disclaimers, copyrights, occasional sneak previews, and some Russian history/culture, see my profile...REVIEW!!

* * *

_**Airspace over Arizona**_

_**September 5, 2005**_

Max had a plan. I could almost see it, behind her amazing hazel eyes. The tendrils reached out to me, to the rest of the Flock, to the School, but especially to Angel. It was good that she had a plan. There was something strange about it, though, something hidden that I couldn't see.

And believe me, I know about hidden.

Suddenly, the tendrils disappeared. Max had stopped scheming – that could either be very good or very bad. I looked over at her, and my breath caught in my throat, just seeing her there, flying with so much power and grace.

She seemed focused on something, down on the ground. New plans began to form between herself and a mind down there somewhere; surprised, I followed her gaze. There was a group of humans on the ground, teenagers it looked like. A girl surrounded by older boys.

I sighed.

She turned to me and started to open her mouth.

"No," I said, quickly cutting her off. I couldn't afford to lose her now. I couldn't let her get off track, out of the Plan, because if she did...

Her eyes narrowed and she started to speak again.

"No," I repeated, with force. I couldn't let her destroy herself the way I had.

"Meet me at the northernmost point of Lake Mead," she said. She was so stubborn! My eyes narrowed and I prepared to take her on.

"What? What are you talking about?" Nudge asked. "Are we stopping? I'm hungry again."

"Max wants to go be Supergirl, defender of the weak," I said, quite ticked off. But also worried for Max. Always worried for Max.

I took a deep breath, scolding myself: _You're not her father. Besides, this is Max we're talking about. She can take care of herself._

True, I'm not her father. But I'm her protector.

"OK. See you in a few," Max said, and dove quickly towards the ground.

My eyes drilled holes in the back of my head, and I fumed. She could get hurt, or even killed! Not likely, especially with that motley crew of humans, but still possible. To say nothing of the fact that she'd broken out of the Plan. Or, at the very least, taken a detour.

But Max had always been stronger than me.

And she didn't know about the Plan, either.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**July 10, 2001**_

I have to escape. Soon. If I don't, I know I won't last long. I have to get out, find somewhere safe to hide, then come back for the others.

Soon.

Not now.

They put me with the Erasers today, and I killed one.

It happened so fast, so suddenly. Not at all like the first time. But it still haunts me. I can't keep the image from playing through my head, over and over, along with all the other ones like it.

I know I've done something terrible. Even though it was an Eraser, and even though it - he - was trying to kill me. I know it wasn't right. Who did I think I was, to take a life? God?

I killed my first Eraser when I was seven. I can still remember it, every sickening detail. The rage, the heat of combat, the fear - so much fear. He was in front of me one moment, then he was on the ground, and I was on top of him. I can still smell his breath, hear him wheezing for air, see the light in his eyes fade, feel his pulse slow and then stop. I can see the blood beginning to flow, some of it his, some of it mine. The handlers are rushing around, trying to keep the Erasers from killing me, but I can't even feel the claws digging into my back. I'm trapped in a web of terror and I can't get out.

I feel dirty, as if I'm covered in a clinging mud that won't wash off. It feels all wrong.

Before I killed the Eraser, I guess I really didn't know what evil was. Whatever the whitecoats said was good was good, and whatever they said was bad was bad.

Now I know better. I know I've taken a life, and I know that it's wrong. I know that the whitecoats are wrong, too, because they enjoy making us suffer. Dear God, they made us into monsters!!!

But I'm just as bad as they are. I've killed a person – a mutant wolf-hybrid, but a real person, with a life and an identity and a mind and a soul.

The memory has been with me for three years now, and it's never gone away. Neither have any of the others. They are my penance for the crimes I've committed, but no matter how hard I try, I can never feel clean, innocent. Because I never will be.

That's why I have to leave. Maybe if I leave, the memories will stay at the School. If I leave, maybe I'll be able to forget.

I'll need the others with me, though. I can't survive on my own, and I can't leave them here for the whitecoats to kill. They are my life. Without them, I don't even feel like a person. I feel like a monster, the monster that I know I am. But they help me forget that, if only for a short time, and I can't live without those few moments where I can pretend.

I'm leaving.

Soon.

* * *

_**The Laboratory**_

_**January 13, 1990**_

"I'm telling you, it's the only way. The artificial womb technology is nowhere near ready. And humans have quite literally been mass-producing babies for millions of years. Don't talk to me about risk. I know the risks. That's why I'm taking them." Tanya paused while they turned down another slick-tiled corridor. "I want to do this. And the Plan doesn't work without it."

Jeb shooed away the technician and stopped, grabbing Tanya's arm and turning her toward him. "Honey, I know you're going to do this, and I know why. I don't even know all of your Plan, but I'll trust that it's the best. I'm just asking because I don't want anything to happen to you – we don't know the side-effects of the process or medication. And the fatality rate of recombinant DNA babies is way above average. If anything happens to you – or the baby -" His voice trailed off.

"Hey," Tanya said, pulling closer to him. "This is the twenty-first century. Women don't die in childbirth anymore. Don't go all soft on me now, just when I need you to be strong."

Jeb chuckled. "I won't. So you've got to stay strong, too, you hear? Be that woman I married, who wasn't even nervous before our wedding."

Tanya smiled shyly, then stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Just for the record, I was so scared I couldn't eat a thing."

"Hmmm. And it's almost like our wedding day all over again, now. I can hardly believe I'm going to be a father."

"Our daughter won't be able to find better," Tanya breathed. Her eyes searched the hallway, finding no one. She tilted up her chin, asking for a kiss.

"Don't worry, Dr. Batchelder," Jeb said softly, teasing her with a kiss on the cheek. "You'll make an excellent mother."

He touched his lips to hers, and Tanya blissfully closed her eyes, forgetting the fears and tensions of the last few days.

Then she opened her eyes and drew back for a breath. She saw the delight in her husband's eyes, and laughed softly, joyfully.

She was going to be a mother!

* * *

**Author's Notes: **You know what goes here... beg, grovel, plead, etc... hit that button down there and start typing! 


	5. Why won't this thing let me name more

**Author's Note: **Yay! For the first time ever, _the Tempest_ has gotten more hits than my little piece of SG-1 randomness, _What's Your Major_! Thanks, guys!

Tipsico, AZ, does not exist! And no, it's not in Nevada or California either. There is a Tipisco Lake, but it's in the northeast. Wow, JP seriously needs to get Google Earth. It'll make his stories more credible. More notes and ramblings, including the soundtrack for this story, are on my profile page.

_**

* * *

**_

_**September 7, 2005**_

"Fang?" Nudge was always loud, but even she needed to raise the volume when we were flying. "Do you remember where we left Max?"

Do I remember? When do I ever not remember?

"Yes."

"Are we going to go there?"

I paused to shut down my emotions before answering. Now is not the time to rush off on heroic rescues, when Max may be in perfect health. "Not if we can help it."

"But why? Maybe Max is hurt and needs help. Maybe we need to save her before we go save Angel." Nudge was clearly upset.

Unfortunately, those thoughts had already occurred to me. I'd thought everything through – sans emotions, of course – and laid down a course of action.

"I don't think Max would have gotten hurt all by herself," I explained to Nudge. "She's not going to fly into a tree or crash-land. So if she's late because she's hurt, it probably means that someone, a person, hurt her. Which means that someone knows about her. We don't want that someone to know about us too. Which they would if we went to where Max is. And if Max is late because she's busy, then our going to her won't speed things up – she'll come when she's good and ready. So for right now, we do a general look-see. Bu we're not going all the way back."

I struggled to clamp down on the instinct that told me to fly after Max. If I'd been alone, I might have gone. But I had Nudge with me, and I couldn't drag her into danger.

"Fang!" Nudge suddenly shouted, excited. "It's Tipisco, down below! I'm going there!"

If she didn't drag me into danger first. What on earth was Tipisco?

Then I remembered. Nudge thought her parents had lived there, once.

"No way, Nudge," I said, knowing she would only find heartache. "Don't get sidetracked now," I urged. "Stay with me."

"No!" she said, and dove towards the ground in an out-of-character stunt. "I have to find my parents!" Her voice came back to me on the wind. I frowned and started to follow her. "If Max is gone, I'm going to need someone else!"

Her words stung. "What? Nudge, you're crazy. Come on, let's talk about it," I pleaded. "Let's find a place, take a break."

"No!" Nudge yelled again, and I saw tears in her eyes. "I'm going down – and you can't stop me!"

I plunged after her, swearing silently. Now Nudge was being a wildcard, too – was everyone determined to get themselves killed?! We needed to find Max and get Angel, not Nudge's parents!

Priorities change quickly when you're responsible for someone else, though. I couldn't leave Nudge. So I had to stay. And I had to help her.

I tried as hard as I could to turn her back, to save her from the disappointment she would find. "What if they moved?" I finally asked her, trying to be gentle for her sake. But this world is not a gentle one. "What if you misunderstood what you read and these people aren't related to you at all? Nudge, even if you weren't a test-tube baby – which you probably were – what if there was a reason they gave you up? They might not want you back." She had to know this was what had happened. People don't give their babies away without a reason.

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" she snapped back, eyes red. "I know that! But I have to try. I mean, if there's the slightest chance – wouldn't you try?"

I hadn't expected this from Nudge. I didn't know she was grown-up enough to understand...

Maybe she was even more mature than I. Because I...

"I don't know," I told her. I just don't know. There's only two things that I do know: I have to follow the Plan, and I have to look after Max.

"That's because you don't need anything or anybody," Nudge said.

Is that really what they believed?

"But I'm not like that. I need people."

So did I, didn't I? I mean, if I didn't, I wouldn't be much more than... well, a robot. Just a brain and a body.

A woman in curlers walked across the small lawn of 4625 Chaparral Court, and I brushed away my thoughts, staying alert. Was it possible that this woman was Nudge's mom? I knew she couldn't be, but I still inspected her, memorizing her features and comparing them to Nudge's.

Then a beautiful, melodic voice spoke from behind me. "Looking for something, freaks? Guess you found it."

I leapt up, surprised and furious because they had managed to get so close to us. Of course, none of that showed on my face.

"Ari," I said coolly, as I subtly shifted into my fighting stance.

"Ari!" Nudge exclaimed. "You were just a little kid."

Wolf-boy grinned. "And now I'm a big grown-up Eraser. And you're a little brown piglet. Yum."

I watched him closely, looking for my chance.

"What did they do to you?" Nudge asked, reminding me of her presence. "I'm sorry, Ari."

I'd forgotten to factor Nudge into my plans... I could take all the Erasers, but if one of them got a hold of Nudge, it could be all over.

"Save your pity for yourself," Ari said. "I'm exactly who I want to be. And I've got some news for you."

I tuned him out, watching the Erasers carefully, plotting.

"Your hideout in the mountains is nothing but ashes. Your pals keep having unfortunate accidents."

My heart skipped a beat, and the muscles around my mouth tightened. I couldn't suppress the scream of panic in my mind. Had something happened to Max?

"You two are the last ones alive – and now we've got you."

My combat training kicked in and I erased the thoughts. Ari was a liar anyway. I couldn't let his words affect me. Not now. No matter how painful they were...

"Pinwheel," I muttered at Nudge, regaining my focus.

"Cholla first," she said. Good thinking for a girl who had been on the verge of tears a second ago.

"Count of three," I replied.

Ari shoved me. "Shut up!" he growled. I stared him in the eyes as I found my balance again.

"One."

I leapt to the side and snapped a back kick at an Eraser, then caught Nudge and swung her into Ari's neck. _Take that, you monster._

I swung Nudge harder, so that she could get out her wings, then hurled her into the sky.

"You're going to die, mutant," Ari snarled, and crashed into me just as I was about to follow Nudge. I twisted to the side, but his full two-hundred pounds plowed into me as he grabbed my leg in a sort of football tackle. I grunted as he fell on top of me.

Before I could even arch my back to throw him off, Ari had pounded the air from my lungs. I saw little stars swim across my vision, then he slammed his heavy fist into my face. I rolled with the punch, saving my nose, but I still couldn't breathe; another Eraser was kicking my chest. Ari smashed me again, but this time I got enough air to spit blood out into his face.

Not that that did any good. Ari promptly made sure that I wouldn't get another breath anytime soon. I gasped for air, but my lungs weren't functioning. My vision started to go grey around the edges. _But this isn't the Plan_, I thought fuzzily.

Suddenly Ari howled and jumped off of me, holding his hands over his eyes... and was his hair _green_?

I jumped into the air as fast as I could, gratefully sucking in as much breath as I could.

"You're _dead_, freaks," Ari screamed, and I almost laughed, seeing his yellow teeth, green hair, and red-stained claws.

"Oh, like you're not a freak _yourself_. Try looking in a mirror, dog boy!" Nudge replied.

She'd been pulling out a lot of surprises lately.

Ari pulled out a gun – not so surprising – and we rocketed out of there.

I let my mind return to Ari's words.

_You're the only two left._

Was it possible?

It wasn't in the Plan. Why would they want to kill us?

What was going on?

Suddenly I wanted to fly all the way back to Max, to find her and touch her and assure myself that she was okay.

Because I didn't want to know what my life would be like if she was dead.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**July 14, 2001**_

I have one weapon, one possession. It's an Eraser tooth and I've had it for a week. I hide it in a corner of my cage, buried in a corner of the fiberglass mesh. It's how I'm going to escape.

It's dark now, and I'm doing what I've been doing for the past week, ever since I got the tooth. I'm cutting my way out.

The cages are strong, the sides and bottom all threaded through with steel bars and fiberglass coating. There's no way I can escape through that. But the roof of my cage is plastic. It's a hard, tough, composite material, but plastic nonetheless.

I'm using the tooth to scratch the outline of a hole there, one that's big enough for me to fit through. The cut can't be complete, or the whitecoats will know my plan, but it has to be deep enough so that I can burst out of my cage.

I don't know what I'll do when I escape. Right now, knowing that I will escape is enough for me. After I'm out, I guess I'll just fly away. Then one day I'll come back for the others. That is, if I can actually fly.

None of us have ever flown before. We have wings and feathers, extra muscles and high metabolism rates, but we don't know if we can fly.

The whitecoats think we can. I hope they're right. They must be right, because the Plan depends on us being able to fly.

I'll just have to figure out how.

I think I'd like to fly. Soaring up in the endless sky, all _alone_, no whitecoats, no School, no anyone anywhere.

I'm going flying soon.

In a couple of days.

* * *

_**Organization Headquarters**_

_**Arkhangelsk, USSR**_

_**April 11, 1990**_

Tanya viciously hurled the crumpled paper towards the trash can, and dropped her head into her hands, cursing pregnancy hormones. She also cursed Roland ter Borcht, who was coming in five minutes.

Why did he have to be so nosy? Couldn't he just do what he was told? Sure, she'd needed his help with some of the DNA sequencing, but it wasn't anything she couldn't have done herself. Not if she'd had ten more years, that was. She cursed the day she'd contacted him, and cursed the Government. Power-hungry politicos! They'd insisted that the Organization have a dual leadership, just in case something went wrong. Sure, like Tanya was going to engineer the mutants to destroy the Government and restore world peace or something.

In theory, she agreed with the shared leadership idea, but she'd quickly changed her mind when they'd stuck her with ter Borcht. The man was a devil. Maybe the devil. Well, no, that was the Boss. He was the devil.

She suddenly straightened and viciously jabbed the 'power' button on her computer. Roland wanted a written copy of the Plan? What was he, insane? Written copies were made to be stolen. Like computer copies were made to be hacked.

The door opened and ter Borcht stalked in. Tanya turned to face him, eyes like ice. She didn't ask him to sit, but he did anyway.

"I don't suppose you have it ready," he said, clearly prepared for a long battle.

"I don't suppose you've seen the light yet, either," she responded.

"We need a master plan. On paper. Original."

"Where have you been all your life, Roland? No, don't answer. Slums of various third world countries and Government labs. Not in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics."

"Very good, my dear, I have spent most of my life in Government labs. And I will remind you that this, too, is a Government operation."

She ignored him, feeling her face flush angrily. "I've been the world's leading geneticist for the past ten years for a good reason, Roland," she said, spitting out the name like a poison pill. "I know how dangerous this work is, and why it absolutely, and I mean absolutely, must be kept secret. Absolutely – and that means no records. Especially not of something that could incriminate us both for the rest of our lives. This country is falling apart at the seams, and everyone knows it. It's going to collapse, and investigators from the West will pour in just to dig up programs like this from the bottom of the dump pile. They'll dredge it out and show it to the world. We can't afford something like that now – we're in the middle of relocating the program to the United States, of all things! Write one word down on paper, leave one suspicious hole in any document, and they'll kill this Project and try us for crimes against humanity. What _don't_ you understand about the word secret?"

"Don't tell me about secret, woman! I'm the _Government's_ leading geneticist for a reason. I understand why you refuse to leave a paper trail. But you need to be held accountable. How can we be sure you aren't planning to betray us? Or take a grab for power yourself?"

"I've told you everything, Roland. I've told the Boss, and no one lies to the Boss. I won't forget it – how could I? I've been perfecting it for the last five years! I'd forget my own name before I forgot the Plan!"

"You can remember, Tatiana. Congratulations. But I can't. The Boss can't. We need something to make sure you don't modify the Plan behind our backs."

"Spoken like the old man you are, Roland," she hissed.

"Turning the conversation to personal insults? Just like a woman!"

Tanya stood up, breathing deeply to prevent herself from scratching out his eyeballs. "Roland," she said, words dropping like boulders, "I _am_ a woman. I know what you're thinking, too – pregnancy hormones. But remember who you're talking to. I've got three doctorates from the world's leading universities. I've been involved in top-secret genetic programs since I was a teenager. I've been in more secret laboratories than you would believe exist. I'm consumed by my work. I've got a recombinant DNA life-form growing in my womb because I'm so committed to my work. And you think I would negate all my life's work for the sake of a few forgetful old men? You've only given you mind to this project. I've given my body, my heart, and my soul as well. Don't forget that, ever."

Ter Borcht slowly stood. Then, with a curt nod, he strode out of the room.

Tanya sighed and dropped back onto her chair, feeling the adrenaline rush out of her system, leaving her empty.

Stupid hormones!

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry, I just couldn't give the guy an accent. Read my notes, you'll understand – I hope. Thank you all who sent me reviews – I love them so much! Keep them coming, and I'll keep this coming! 


	6. than one chapter the same thing?

**Author's note:** took my story off the 'new chapters' listing like, the day after I posted... which is probably why I didn't get as many hits as usual. I'm not sure whether or not the story/author alerts went out either... so if you missed the last chapter, don't panic, it's still there!

Merci to all those who did review...today's geography lesson, along with author's notes, song lyrics, random thoughts, replies to anonymous reviewers, disclaimers, copyrights, etc. can be found on my profile page. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

_**Valley of Fire National Park, NV**_

**_September 7, 2005_**

I didn't want to think about it just yet – what we would do next. I was the leader now that Max wasn't here, and Iggy and Gazzy and Nudge were looking to me for a plan.

I circled lower, barely moving my wingtips to slide sideways. I flared the bottom of my wing up, and frowned as I slid further away instead of stopping like I'd hoped.

Flying is the one thing, more than any other thing, that helps me forget. Or that stops me from thinking about anything but the air, my wings, and the pure sensation of freedom.

It was an illusion, of course – what did I know about freedom?

But I wasn't willing to let go of this illusion just yet.

So I flew. I flew with the hawks, and after half an hour the rest of the Flock came to join me. Everyone except Angel – and Max.

I explained a new move to Iggy, and gently guided his wingtips to 'show' it to him. I was better at this. I had always been the Flock's teacher – I taught them how to fight and how to think, and how to fly. Except for when Jeb...

I skipped over the memory quickly, then realized my delusions. I'd been lulled into a false peace for two years, and then two more after _he_ left.

So who was I to teach life lessons to the Flock, to act like an older brother and counselor?

I knew nothing of life.

All I know is death.

"Look!" Gazzy suddenly cried.

"I can't, you idiot," Iggy said, but I turned in alarm. My eyes narrowed as I saw an approaching speck... too large to be a hawk, to awkward to be ...

_Max??!!_

I flew closer, and she approached too. Now there was no doubt.

I recognized the russet hawk feathers speckled with white.

Max was alive!

The Gasman chattered excitedly to Iggy, and ridiculous smiles bloomed on their faces. I might have joined them, but I didn't think my face was capable of stretching that far. I forced myself to wait as Max drew closer.

Nudge dashed on ahead. "Max, Max!" I heard her squeal. "I can't believe it! _Can_ I believe it?"

Max looked over me and I motioned to the cave in our cliff. I started leading them there, and quickly landed, disappearing into the shadows.

"Max!" Nudge exclaimed, smothering her with a hug almost as soon as she landed.

Max was alive! And looking well.

"We were so worried – I didn't know what had happened to you, and we didn't know what to do, and Fang said we were going to eat rats, and - "

Max looked over Nudge's curly head and mouthed, _Rats?_

I couldn't hide the relieved smile that flickered onto my features. That was my Max, all right! She was back!

"Okay, okay," Max told Nudge. "Everything's okay."

And even though everything was _not _okay, for a moment – just for a moment – everything was okay.

* * *

**_The School_ **

_**July 15, 2001**_

It's the middle of the night again. I like the night. It's dark and silent, just like me. And it holds a lot of secrets. It holds sleep and dreams, too, but I only hold memories I can't lose.

They gave me a memory upgrade when I was two, and I've remembered every moment of my life since then. Everything the whitecoats have ever said to me, everything I've said to Max or Iggy or Nudge, every dream I've dreamed, and every torment of my life. Everything I've ever seen, heard, smelled, or felt is as clear today as it was then. Sometimes it's hard to tell which is the memory and which is the reality. They're both so real, so similar.

I know that this moment is real, because I'm preparing to do something I've never done before. I pause to savor the moment, because I rarely do anything I haven't already done a thousand times before. I'm done scratching the circle in the cage's ceiling. I've cut off the last two inches off the legs of the medical scrubs I always wear. The strips of blue cloth lay beside my left leg right now.

Faint moonlight comes through the slit-like window. In five more days, there won't be any silver beams left at all. And I won't be here either.

I slowly lift the Eraser tooth, watching the moonlight reflect off the white enamel, razor sharp and deadly. The tooth is about an inch and a half long, and a quarter inch wide at the top.

Quickly I glance around at the other cages in the room. No one's moving. Max is breathing softly in the cage next to my own, sleeping. Iggy, across the hall from me, snores quietly. Nudge is motionless in the cage next to him, except for the barely discernible rise and fall of her chest. The Gasman and Angel are curled up together in their cage, two young fair-headed bird children lost in their dreams.

It's just me now. Me and the darkness, my friend.

I take a deep breath, and plunge the tooth into my calf. The pain takes my breath away, and I can't keep back a small gasp. I bite my lip and shove the tooth in further. I have to do this quickly, before it starts to bleed. My body screams in protest, but I ignore it, burying the foreign object in my flesh.

Finally it's over. I quickly take the strips of cloth and wrap them around the wound. They turn dark almost instantly. I press my leg up against the wall of my cage, keeping it elevated, hoping the cut won't bleed onto the floor. If it does, they'll know.

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but the pain persists, and soon I give up.

I'm too excited to sleep anyway.

Just five more days.

* * *

**_Batchelder Home_ **

**_Arkhangelsk, USSR_ **

_**June 20, 1990**_

Tanya fell onto the couch, too tired to even take off her shoes. She leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling fatigue melt slowly out of her tired bones. A few tears leaked out as well. Too tired to wipe them away, she simply let them come. She felt like a whale. Everyone at the Laboratory noticed now, and traded glances behind her back that said, what's a pregnant woman doing running the Organization? So when was this miracle of motherhood supposed to kick in? All she had was violent mood swings, a growing belly, and a mutant baby with a stiff kick.

"Tanya, you home?" called Jeb, walking into the room. He stopped short when he saw her. "Oh, honey," he said softly, going over to her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

She just groaned and leaned her head onto his shoulder. He wrapped his strong arms around her, whispering softly. "Everything will be fine, beautiful. I promise. Your Plan is wonderful. It's marvelous. You'll do it, I know you will. Don't let a couple of idiots stand in your way."

Tanya sniffled, then struggled to raise her head. She lost the battle and let it fall back onto Jeb. "It's not that, Jeb," she said. "I can deal with that. I'm the Iron Woman, remember? But..."

He stroked her hair soothingly. "What is it, honey?"

"Well... the baby. What if something happens to her? What if I'm wrong, and the Plan ruins her? What will the scientists do to her, behind my back? What if I can't always be there for her, or fail as a mother? I don't know a thing about motherhood! I hardly know how to be a woman! I - "

Jeb cut her off, kissing her hand and saying, "No, no, don't say that. You're more than just a woman; you're my perfect woman. No one could every be so lovely, so luscious, as you. Don't worry, sweet, everything will be fine. You said so yourself. I'll make sure of it. Nothing will happen to our baby. She'll be our little miracle. Your little girl."

Tanya sighed. "I feel terrible," she finally admitted. "Like I have a monster inside me. What if something's wrong? Maybe I should get an abortion, before it's too late..."

Jeb grabbed her shoulders fiercely and pressed his forehead to hers. "Don't even think about it," he said fiercely. "That baby is perfect and beautiful and alive, just like you. She's not even born and I love her already. So do you. She's a gift, an indescribable blessing, and if you ended that... My heart would be ripped apart."

Tanya closed her eyes and placed a hand on her belly, feeling the baby's movement. Jeb placed his hand on top of hers, smiling at her. Finally, she looked up at him and smiled back.

"You're right," she said. "I love her so much already. I don't even know if it's possible for me to love her more when she's born. Between my love for you and my love for her, there won't be room for anything else!"

"That's the way it should be," Jeb said, kissing her. "We'll be a family so full of love, there won't be enough room to store it. Just you, me ... and our little Maximum."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Questions or comments? Call 1-800-FANFICTION ... lol, no. Press the button, type your question and/or comment, and I'll get back to you! So much easier! Oh, and by the way, just to be utterly clear – I am NOT encouraging cutting, abortion, or self-mutilation of any kind (shivers at the thought). Please, guys, don't cut. 


	7. Almost the end of Part 1

**Author's Note: **Um, guys? I'm confused... I know people are still reading this, because I'm getting a lot of hits, but did I do something wrong? I didn't get a single review for the last chapter. I'm not complaining – but I don't know why that happened because the website messed up, or y'all were too busy, or the chapter confused you, or didn't know what to think of it, or because it was boring or I messed up big time.

I'll still keep writing and posting even if you don't read or review, but I don't write this stuff for myself – I write it for y'all. If I have an idea that I think people will like (and I _have_ been told that this is a pretty good idea), I write it up. True, I enjoy myself in the process, but this story is to entertain you guys and, in some places, to make you think. And it does make me happy to know whether or not I'm succeeding at this goal.

But even if you don't review, and even if this does start getting ... intense... I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

_**Panamint Springs, CA**_

_**September 8, 2005**_

I was sitting in a restaurant booth surrounded by tables full of Erasers, and I felt more secure than I had in months.

First of all, Max was there. Secondly, there was a lot of food. Thirdly, there was no possible way for us to escape. Especially with Max's driving the way it was.

We were on track, though. The Plan continued. No more funny detours or modifications, just playing the whitecoats' games until they won at let us go. No one would die or get seriously hurt. We would finish the game and get on with our forgetting and suppressing memories, trying to make the most of our lives.

Max was still kicking, though. I had, too, when I was in her place. She would learn soon, though, that the fighting isn't worth it.

She'd be better off finishing her chicken sandwich.

But since this was Max, we would try to escape anyhow.

"Nudge, Gazzy," she said, barely audible. "Don't look up. In three seconds, jump over Fang and out that exit door."

Whatever. I took a last bite of my burger and prepared for action.

Then Nudge clambered over me and slammed through the door. I quickly rose and gave Iggy a push in the right direction. There was an alarm clanging, and the Erasers were already morphing. I followed Max out the door and kicked it shut. Not that it would really delay them, but since Erasers don't have the highest IQ's, it might confuse them.

We piled into the van and buckled up – because with Max driving, you never knew. She remembered to release the parking brake this time, and stomped hard on the gas. Thank God for seatbelts.

The parking lot started filling with Erasers. How many of them were there? At least fifty – they wanted us bad.

Max angered the transmission by jerking the stick and sent the van tearing through the bushes around the parking lot. Then we were out onto the main road. Other horns honked in protest as we narrowly avoided a collision with a particularly large SUV. She careened through a gas station and back onto another road.

"Max!" Nudge screamed, and I closed my eyes. It would be nice if the nightmare ended... but like this? I'd always assumed that Erasers or the whitecoats would kill me some day. I'd never imagined I would go out in something as mundane and pointless as a car crash.

The van swerved and my head bounced off the window. I caught sight of a semitrailer passing four inches from my head, and jerked away, breathing hard. That had been close.

Max was gripping the wheel with white knuckles, pressing the accelerator to the floor with all her might. Her eyes were wide with fear as she quickly pulled the wheel this way and that, trying to avoid traffic. "It's so bulky!" she cried out, as the van lifted onto two wheels around a particularly sharp bend.

"It's a _van,_" I said, not being very helpful, but then I was rarely able to say what I really wanted to. Which usually makes me completely unable to say things I'm unable to.

I wanted to comfort Max, to assure her that everything was going to be okay, to not try so hard because this escape wasn't worth risking our lives for.

She wouldn't believe me, though.

That's the difference between me and Max.

Even if she knew about the Plan, she'd never go along with it. She probably would think that I would feel the same way, too. My name is Fang, and that says that I'm a fighter.

But I knew I can't fight the Plan. Neither can Max.

So I have to make sure she's going with the Plan, because she can't fight it and she can't beat it. Because it's her destiny, not her choice.

It's my destiny, too.

This dangerous running around in old bulky vehicles couldn't help us at all. We couldn't escape, and I wasn't just being pessimistic. This is a fact that I know.

Max will always hope, though. She doesn't give up.

"I'm gonna stop!" she yelled. "Jump out and get into the air as fast as you can!"

"OK!" the others yelled back. I gave a brief nod, bracing myself for her brake-squealing halt.

Max glanced at the rearview mirror and saw the three black cars gaining on us. She suddenly twisted the wheel and swung the van into a field of corn.

Stalks of corn slapped the windshield as we plowed them down. Between the engine noise and the snapping corn stalks, we couldn't hear anything.

The view cleared suddenly, and I glimpsed a road. The van bumped onto the asphalt and Max stomped on the gas.

A sedan appeared from nowhere, and suddenly I was slammed forward then propelled back. My vision blurred, then cleared.

For a moment, there was silence before the chaos began.

"Report," Max called, sounding terrible.

"OK here," I said, not really knowing that for sure. I quickly glanced at Max to make sure she was unharmed. Her face was covered with blood – my breath caught in my throat, which seemed to have been scraped badly by the seatbelt – but then I realized that it was her nose bleeding, and relaxed slightly.

"OK here," Nudge chimed in, and she must have noticed Max's face as well.

"It's just my nose," Max said, confirming my suspicions. "Head wounds always bleed a lot. Look, it's already stopping."

I stared suspiciously at her. True, head wounds did bleed more than usual, but there was no sign that her nose would stop bleeding any time soon.

"I feel like, like pudding" Iggy said. "Pudding with nerve endings," he added, completing the strange mental picture. "Pudding in great pain."

"I feel sick," the Gasman said, and, out of years of habit, I recoiled slightly. A sick Gasman was serious bad news.

Then three black cars squealed up beside the van, and Erasers leaped out. They started bashing in the windows faster than I could blink. I'd only just released my seatbelt when the door caved in and three sets of clawed hands pulled me out.

I panicked as memories flashed into my mind, but instinct quickly took over.

I fought, even though I knew it was useless.

I fought because, in some place buried deep inside me, I still wanted to resist the Plan. Somewhere, I still thought that I could find freedom once again. But no, that can't be true, because I've never been free.

I twisted, brought my hands together and clasped them, then threw my shoulders back and drove my head into the chest of the Eraser behind me. His breath left him with a whoosh, but there were still two erasers gripping my hands. I felt their claws cut into my fingers as I turned and drove my elbow into a wolfy solar plexus.

Then suddenly an Eraser behind me kicked my leg out from under me, and I went down. The Eraser still holding on to me followed me to the ground, landing on my chest with all his two-hundred-plus pounds. I felt dizzy as I struggled for air, and gratefully realized that my strong bird-bones hadn't broken under the force.

The Eraser drove his fist into my face as others came up, holding me down so I couldn't buck him off. They turned me onto my side, jerked my arms out behind me and zipped them together with a plastic cord.

I saw Ari kick Max with his custom-made boot, and growled at him, furious.

"Tag. You're it," he shouted in glee. I struggled to get up, but the Eraser punched me again, and I stopped moving.

"It's almost like you don't want to go back to School," Ari continued, grinning down at Max. I tensed. If he even tried to strike her again...

There is one thing I would fight for, no matter how hopeless the situation. I would fight for it even if I know it was doomed to failure, even if it meant I would die.

I will always fight for Max. To keep her alive. To protect her. Even if the Plan was to let her die.

Max looked over and met my eyes. I quickly shut down my responses, and then my emotions, too, just in case. It was something I'd learned to do a long time ago. None of it is easy, but turning off my expressions is far easier than turning off my emotions.

Still she tried to smile at me, even though her face was covered in blood and bruises.

_She_ was trying to reassure _me_?? When she was the one with no idea what lay ahead? Her nightmare was about to begin in earnest; she was the one who needed reassurance. Instead, she was watching out for the Flock. With Max, it is always the Flock before herself.

I opened my mouth to tell her something – that it would be all right, or some other comforting lie like that – but then an Eraser saw me and aimed a vicious kick at my temple.

I shuddered as my world exploded into cascading colours, then slipped into the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**July 17, 2001**_

The whitecoats don't notice my slight limp. They didn't even notice the healing scar this morning. They've gotten careless, too used to giving us checkups, hooking us up to monitors and torturing us with electrodes and tests.

I'm nervous, even a little frightened, because I know this will hurt more than last time. I've got to do this, though, or I won't be able to leave.

I need to leave.

I have to find a place where I can forget this hellhole.

They throw my cage onto the back of an electric cart and start the motor. Five Erasers grab onto the rails of the cart, hitching rides, gazing hungrily at me through the bars of my cage. They yip in excitement, morphing when their bloodlust overcomes them.

I feel sick.

We arrive at a small room that I know opens out into the yard. The killing grounds. Handlers herd the Erasers towards another room. Others drag me out of my cage and check me over. My wings are clipped, as usual, and they check my pulse and blood pressure, carefully recording data on their clipboards. Then they finish, and I dread what is coming next.

"Try not to kill too many, one-nine-one," the whitecoat says, and shoves me out the door.

I fall hard and roll quickly, out of instinct. It's summer and the sun is assaulting the ground, heating the afternoon to 115 degrees. If not for my genetically-enhanced skin, the sand itself would scorch my feet.

I spring to my feet, settling into my fighter's stance, warily facing the door the Erasers will emerge from.

Suddenly it opens, and they morph grotesquely. They howl and run for me. I force myself to wait. I have to tell myself that this time is different, that I have a plan and I must follow it.

At the last moment possible, I dive out off their way. The last Eraser on the row trips over me as I sail towards the ground. I fall and roll horizontally, then hop to my feet and run. They're already circling back towards me. I pick out one on the side and meet his rushing form with a kick. He crumples as the aftershock of the blow pushes me backwards. There's another Eraser behind me; I throw myself backward, onto my hands, and bring my feet over and into his face. I go down on top of him; two more Erasers aim blows at my head. I duck and snap out my wings, swiping the tips of my wings against their eyes. As I quickly roll out of the way, I see the Eraser I need. He's hanging back, as he always does, waiting for the kill.

This time he may succeed.

I regain my feet and run. He's right there, as I knew he would be. My left leg is on the ground when I'm next to him, just as planned.

He lashes out, and I crumple, hearing my shin shatter. I scream, both in pain and to let the whitecoats know about my injury. I roll into a ball to protect myself from the Erasers, and propel myself away from them using my good leg.

The pain is worse than I'd remembered it to be. Maybe this fracture is more serious than the last.

It seems to be a long time before the Erasers are called off and the medics come running. I check myself over as I slowly uncurl.

My sight swims a little as I see my fine white bones poking through torn flesh, but I quickly look away, checking my upper body for wounds. I find none, and allow myself a small smile of satisfaction before the doctors haul me onto a stretcher and out of the yard.

We're in surgery faster than I expected. They're not planning to put me to sleep during the procedure, and the head surgeon is still deciding whether or not to even use local. After seeing the compound fracture on the X-rays, he decides to use it.

I'm grateful. Soon my leg is numb, and my mind is going numb, too, which is something I can't allow. I fix my eyes on the surgeons, trying to stay awake. I have to be alert. The perfect time may come at any moment now.

The head surgeon suddenly straightens and exclaims, "What the devil is this?" He stares again at the lighted X-ray table, and points to a tooth-shaped chunk buried just below my skin.

"Bone fragment, sir," responds the technician, but the doctor cuts him off.

"We've extracted all the fragments, and there's none in that area. And that looks like a ..." he peers closely at the diagram, then turns to a nurse: "Get me the scalpels." She goes to fetch the tray, and the doctor is pleased. It's his favorite set of instruments, I know, that he likes to use for...

I shudder and clamp down the rising tide of memories.

The nurse lays the tray down at the doctor's right hand. I feel my fingers twitch in anticipation, but they're still watching me, so I lie still.

The doctor selects his third smallest knife, as I knew he would, and starts cutting.

Then he mutters an exclamation, and the others gather around to look. "What the dickens is this? It looks almost like ... an Eraser tooth?"

I hardly hear them; I'm slowly inching my left hand towards the tray of scalpels. The largest one is at the rightmost end, nearest to my hand. Hopefully the doctor won't miss it, since it's on the end of the tray. A doctor looks up, and I freeze, forcing my heart to maintain a steady rhythm, lest the monitors give me away.

After an eternity he looks down again. The doctor is busy extracting the tooth, and I finally touch his scalpel. Slowly, slowly, ever so carefully, I quietly turn it slide it up my left sleeve, under the band of cloth I'd tied there early this morning. I test it to make sure it's secure, then silently lay my hand back down. I resist the urge to sigh with relief; I mustn't do anything abnormal.

First goal, accomplished, I tell myself.

The doctor holds up the bloody Eraser tooth and hands it to a nurse for disposal.

Second goal, accomplished, I tell myself triumphantly.

I really am going to get out of here.

* * *

_**Organization Headquarters**_

_**Prince Rupert, Canada**_

_**August 28, 1990**_

"Your wife is a remarkable woman, Batchelder," Roland ter Borcht said, standing by the large glass observation window.

"She is indeed," Jeb replied, not without some pride.

"She's eight months pregnant and still works twelve hours a day. She should be on maternity leave, for her sake as much as the baby's."

"In two weeks she'll move to the hospital for observation," Jeb said. But Roland already knew that.

"Yes," ter Borcht murmured.

Jeb joined him in gazing through the window. As always, the sight captivated him. It was the heart of the Laboratory, where animals and man were combined to create marvels. It was where his baby had been conceived – not in the bliss of wedlock but in the minds and effort of hundreds. Just grafting the avian DNA onto the human had taken months, the result of years of studies and planning. The egg had been fertilized in a moment, the process overseen by experts in the field.

And soon he would see the result.

"Take good care of her, Batchelder," warned ter Borcht, and Jeb jerked his mind back into the geneticist's office. "She's carrying our most valuable experiment ever. And she'll have to raise her as well."

"So will I," Jeb reminded the man.

"Yes, you shall as well," ter Borcht agreed. "But Tatiana – she'll have to be head of the Organization as well as mother to our chosen child. It's not an easy task."

"Your point?" Jeb asked, tired of his vague hints and knowing that the geneticist, as always, was up to something.

"She'll experience massive amounts of stress. And she is, in the end, only a woman. She may be tempted to do something rash."

"Not her." Jeb stated flatly. "This is her life, ter Borcht."

"Oh, is it?" Jeb scowled and folded his arms.

"Or is the baby her life? Ask her, Jeb. Ask her tonight." The man's smooth voice slid into Jeb's mind.

He shook it off. "I don't need to ask her. I know her as well as I know myself. She's my _wife_, man. She's part of me."

"So is your child, Batchelder. Come on, admit it. You love that cell formation already."

Jeb was silent.

Ter Borcht continued. "You're attached. That's good – at least in your case. But we both know that this Project can't afford to have Tatiana attached to the child. It isn't in the Plan."

Jeb bristled. "It is in the Plan, Roland. She's to be Maximum's _mother_. I don't know about your childhood, but to me, and to her, motherhood means love. Endless, unconditional, self-sacrificing love. Without that, you can only hope to raise a monster."

"Maximum _is_ a monster," ter Borcht snapped. "It's not human, not even alive yet. You can't feed it love, because once it's taken away, the creature dies trying to find it again."

Jeb opened his mouth to respond, but ter Borcht cut him off. "You give your daughter love, Batchelder," he said, "and when you take it away from her, in twelve years, and start her mission in fourteen, she'll die. She won't be able to accomplish her purpose. She'll die a useless, broken wreck, after trying to find what you once gave her. We need Maximum – a highly tuned instrument, not an innocent child, to save the world.

"Remember the Plan. That's what it says Maximum is for. You and Tatiana are only there as DNA donors and her trainers.

"I'm warning you, Batchelder. Detach yourself while you still can. Tatiana's already too far gone. Detach yourself, and you'll be able to save your wife's Plan – her dreams. She'll thank you one day. Because, as you said yourself, the Plan is her life. Save your wife, Jeb. Because she can love you back. A mutant monster can't."

Jeb paused, thinking, for a long time.

Finally, he turned to ter Borcht and said stonily: "I'll consider it."

Then he left the room, leaving Roland ter Borcht grimly smiling down at his creations.

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Oh no, Jeb! Evil! Evil! Don't you dare! 


	8. Part 1: The Signs, fin

**Author's Note: **The next time I write to you, I will be installed in one of our nation's universities somewhere in the south. I'm moving, people! I dearly hope that I am able to continue writing, but I may only be able to post on week-ends. I'll still try my best to reply to your reviews, but it may take me longer than usual, because I'm not quite sure what's ahead. Wish me luck!

And since I'm so excited, I hereby present (drumroll, please!) the end of Part 1: The Signs! The storm is coming, though, so hold on and enjoy!

* * *

_**The School**_

_**September 8, 2005**_

I was only half conscious, but I recognized the smell at once.

Hospital. Anti-septic.

School.

A flood of memories comes back, each razor sharp and dangerous. I've managed to suppress them for four years, and I'd even thought I'd forgotten some. But now, a hundred painful awakenings overwhelmed my mind. The sensations came fast, the feelings were a torrent of torment.

Here I was again.

Back at the School.

But that shouldn't have surprised me.

Because in reality, I'd never left it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **To properly experience this section, get out Comatose by Skillet and play track 1: Rebirthing.

_**The School**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

It's four o'clock in the morning when they come for me. It's still dark outside. They want me with the others by six o'clock today, so they can continue the series of group tests they've been performing.

Perfect.

The advantage of being able to see plans is that I can come up with some pretty good ones myself. Not that I've ever needed too, before now.

The lab assistants are groggy, but they still do a good job. That's why they're hired. They're hauling in my cage now, getting ready to take me from the med ward back to the room I share with the others. One of them inspects the crate, like I knew he would. The whitecoats are paranoid. It's hard to get anything past them.

I watch tensely as the man checks around my cage, running his hands up the corners, feeling in the cracks. To anyone watching me, I look half-asleep and bored. But I'm not, not at all. For the sake of the monitors still attached to me, I try to slow my heart rate and keep my brain activity to a minimum. It's not easy, but I've gotten better at it over the years.

Finally the man emerges and shakes his head. He hasn't found anything.

Because there was nothing to find.

Except the cuts on the ceiling, but they never look up.

I'd smuggled a weapon in and out without alerting them. It had cost me a leg, but I heal fast and I value freedom more.

This may be my only chance to find freedom, to discover what it really is. I can't fail.

The lab assistants load me into the cage. I stumble along sleepily, not saying a thing. The electric cart starts moving through the silent halls.

To get from the med wing into the place where we are kept, they have to drive across one hundred feet of concrete, in between the separate buildings. The School is fenced by twenty-foot high electric wire with razor coils on the top. There are five guardhouses, and a network of lasers guards the perimeter. None of this should be a problem for a boy with wings.

If he knows how to fly.

My heart pounds as we near the double doors leading into the small courtyard. They open, and I feel the dry desert air ruffling my feathers. The cart moves through them, into the dimly lit area.

Tonight is new moon. Hopefully, they won't see where I'm going.

They always drive fast through the courtyard, like they're afraid we'll burst out and fly off.

Which is exactly what I'm going to do.

My wings were clipped three days ago, and some of the primary feathers have grown out since then, thanks to our super-fast healing rates. I remember a discussion the whitecoats had once, in which they said that it was theoretically possible for us to fly forty-eight hours after our wings were clipped. It had been more than that already.

I take one last deep breath. In one second we'll be almost at the second pair of double doors, in the dimmest part of the light cast by a single lamppost. I hop into a crouch position and cover my head with my arms.

Then I explode upward and into the plastic roof of my cage.

For one heart-stopping instant, nothing happens. Then all my fifty-five pounds of abnormally strong bird kid rocket up through a gaping hole in the roof.

I jump clear of the debris, foot finding the remaining ceiling. As the whitecoats turn back to look in surprise, I'm launching myself into the air.

I whip out my wings, something I'm rarely able to do in my tiny cage. Eleven feet of black eagle's feathers spread out, and I shove them down fiercely. I'm falling rapidly, and I pump my wings again, feeling the pull in the muscles I've never used before.

Then I'm shooting back up, into the pre-dawn sky. I'm flying.

I have no time to think about the sensations flooding my body and mind; I hear gunshots and flap harder than I ever knew I could. I turn my face up to the dome of stars and flap, feeling the wind streaming through my hair. Hearing bullets whiz past me, my heart pumping furiously, and the angry shouts and alarms sounding below.

I fly.

I fly fast.

I tilt my wings tentatively, trying to fly across now as well as up. Suddenly I can see the dark shadows below me, with pinpricks of light. I blink. I didn't know I had gone this high.

The earth is lost in shadow, but above me I see millions of lights, tiny jewels and glittering sparks.

The earth is dead. The sky is alive, full of life.

I pump my wings and feel power flowing through my veins. I spread my arms out and give a wild shout, a laugh, a cry.

I don't have a name for this sensation; it's something wonderful, amazing, that I've never felt before. Joy, I think suddenly, feeling the rightness of it.

So this is joy!!! I scream without words. I roll over, feeling the wind tug at me and seeing the world spin. The air flow over my feathers, the burning of my muscles, the lightness of my body all intoxicate me. My body and soul scream with delight.

If this is joy, I need more of it. It makes me feel... so _alive_.

_I'm alive!_ And I belong in the sky.

Euphoria overwhelms me, and I cry out once more. This is freedom! My mind screams at me.

I yell it out to the heavens.

I am finally free!!!!

* * *

**WARNING! WARNING! ATTENTION!!! ACHTUNG!! WARNING! WARNING!!!**

**THIS NEXT SECTION IS RATED M.**

If you don't think you can handle it, PM me and I'll give you a summary of what happens.

And if you want to go through with this, take the time to get out your handy-dandy Return of the King soundtrack and play track 5: Steward of Gondor while you read this.

**WARNING!!! WARNING!!! RATED M!!**

* * *

_**Organization Headquarters Hospital**_

_**September 27, 1990**_

Tanya screamed and grabbed Jeb's hand. She was only half-aware of his soft murmurs, and the thought that she may be hurting his hand only barely registered in her brain. She rode the waves of pain and forced herself to breathe.

Breathe, Tanya. In, out. In, out. Gotta hold on. Can't let go, now. This is all you've ever hoped for. This is your dream come true.

Right now she would've traded it for a nightmare.

"That's my girl, Tanya, just keep breathing... it'll be over soon, and you'll get to see our baby..."

She clenched her teeth and groaned. She had planned this herself, as usual, and she knew it was for the best, but that didn't help her master the pain. She knew that anesthetic during childbirth had adverse effects on recombinant babies, but right now she'd give anything for a moment of relief.

But then, because she was Tanya, she wouldn't take anesthetic even if the doctors tried to force her.

She clamped harder onto Jeb's hand as her muscles contracted, then screamed as a fresh wave of pain crashed down on her. She felt her vision starting to collapse into a tunnel; Jeb was talking to her, urgently, but the sound of his voice was fading, fading...

Finally, after drifting in an eternity of flashing images, short sound clips, and oceans of pain, she felt her senses expand again. To her surprise, there was no more pain. She gradually loosened her grip on Jeb.

Her vision found a focus, and she gasped in delight. "My baby!" she cried, seeing the small form, alive and squealing. She laughed in delight, surprised that she had the strength to do so. "My baby! Jeb, she's perfect!"

The doctor wrapped the crying baby in a fresh cloth. Tanya giggled and held out her arms. "Give me my baby, Francis," she said. She sighed, drowning in a river of pleasure. She could almost feel the streams of love flowing out from her. "I want to hold my precious baby."

Francis turned and started towards the door. Tanya shifted, trying to catch a glimpse of the newborn child. "Francis, give me my baby!"

The nurse opened the door, and Dr. Francis walked out.

Tanya frowned, confused. "Francis, what's going on?"

The door slammed shut. She could no longer see her child.

"Francis!! Jeb, what's happening?" Tears started to roll down her face. How she ached to hold her baby, to touch her, finally see and feel the small face, the perfect limbs, the baby wings!

Her husband looked down at her, face as cold as a statue's. "There's been a change in plans."

What was he talking about? Why was he looking at her like that? Slowly, the fog in Tanya's mind cleared, and she froze, possessed by horror.

"My baby!!" she screamed. "They took her? They're taking my baby?!!"

Jeb looked down at her, mist in his eyes, then resolutely turned and walked out of the room.

_I'm dead,_ Tanya thought. _I'm dead and he's just buried me. And I love him so much! What did he mean... why did he... Roland, I thought he'd understood but he didn't, he went and made his own Plan instead... and Jeb... oh, Jeb, Jeb, Jeb, what have you done? The man I love ..._

Suddenly she remembered. "My baby!!" she howled, trying to sit up and get out of the hospital bed. "They took my baby!!"

She didn't feel the hands gently pulling her down, didn't hear the nurses talking or feel the needle as it slid in to her arm.

Then her vision started to fade, but nothing could ever make the grief go away.

"My baby!!" she screamed once more. "Maximum!! Come back, give me back my baby..."

She sobbed in anguish, devastated, as she felt herself fall into an all-consuming blackness.

"MAAAAAAAX!!!!"


	9. Interlude I

_**Interlude**_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thought you'd get the beginning of Part 2? Heh, heh. Authors can be evil when they want, and I was definitely feeling evil when I wrote this :)

Thanks for all y'all who stuck with me during part 1 - I think you'll like what's coming. Love your reviews, PM's, etc. I'll try so hard to keep updating at least once a week - and finish writing, of course.

In other news, I'm posting some original fic (mostly stuff I did when I was younger) on When I get around to it, that is... and I wrote some short stories for Narnia, so if you like that land, you might enjoy them.

So, sorry to keep you waiting...

* * *

I had lost myself a long time ago.

I had _died_, a long time ago.

And I've never been alive since then.

I made a choice once, and it was the wrong choice. It bound me permanently, irrevocably, to something I hated. To someone I hated.

Myself.

I'd wagered my free will, my life, and lost.

For a man who loses his free will loses his soul. And a man without a soul is dead.

Just like I am now.


	10. Part 2: The Storm

**Author's Note: **Here it is, guys and girls! Sorry for torturing you with an interlude and then a wait. My lame excuse is that I was busy. But hey, it's true! Anyway, have fun with this chapter. Oh, and reviews would be great :)

* * *

_**Part 2: The Storm**_

_**The School**_

_**September 9, 2005**_

I looked around at my friend's faces, relieved to find them unharmed yet desolate because they had to be here.

We were back in cages again.

Max was doing her best to shoot optimistic glances at the Flock, but even she knew it wasn't working. She was as frightened as the rest of us.

Except for me. But then, I knew what was going on.

I wanted to tell her – I would do almost anything to wipe that fear out of her eyes. Fear shouldn't have to belong in Max.

Almost anything.

Because I know I won't be able to bear the anger and hate that will be in her eyes if I do tell her.

Nudge was silent and scared, her large brown eyes even wider than normal. She'd been so brave lately, and right now she was being brave mostly for Angel's sake.

Angel looked terrible. I was glad that she was alive, and I'd smiled at her when I'd woken up, but inside I was weeping for her.

She had a large yellowing bruise on the side of her face – someone had struck her, hard, and I felt her pain. There were burn marks on her legs and bruises on her arms. Large bags hung under her six-year-old blue eyes that had seen too much.

She would see much more suffering before this was finished.

I asked myself how I could just sit by and let this happen to her, but I already knew why. Because I was to terrified to fight anymore. Better just to let it come, weather it, and then die.

An old spark of indignant rage flared, but I blew it out.

I'd learned my lesson.

I closed my eyes and sat still, trying to empty my mind. I knew there was no way to prepare myself or my friends for the games ahead, so I didn't try.

Gradually, memories stopped surfacing and playing, sounds and smells grew distant, and my heartbeat slowed.

I fell into the soft, dark, emptiness and just let time pass.

I knew that when I came out, the clock would've turned back four years.

And though everything would be different, everything would be exactly the same.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Jeb jerked at the sound of a fist on his door. "Not now," he growled, staring at his computer screen. The door squeaked as the knob turned, and he viciously swung his chair around, glaring at the door as it opened.

A frightened white face peeked around the edge and was nailed by Jeb's hot glare.

"I told you, not now!" Jeb shouted.

"Sir, I've got to tell you – Subject R013191 'Fang' has just escaped." The technician was careful to keep the heavy door between himself and Jeb.

Jeb straightened. "What?! That's not supposed to happen for two more years!!" Silently, he kicked himself. How could he have just ignored the sirens? True, his room was soundproof, but then there was that annoying red blinker on his laptop, hard at work even now.

"We've been encouraging him as you'd instructed, sir, but we had no idea that it could act on them so soon. We're not even quite sure how it escaped – we're guessing it cut its way out somehow, but it never had any sort of tool on hand, and the dental records don't show any sign of wear on its teeth."

Jeb swore violently. "Track it," he barked.

"We already are, sir. The chopper should be transmitting now."

Jeb pulled up a program on his computer and saw the subject's trajectory. He stopped a moment, impressed in spite of all things. "So the boy really can fly, eh? We need to get the data on this as soon as possible. Especially on the muscular activity... dang, these mutants can fly _fast! _Leg must not have affected the flight, either..."

The technician cleared his throat. "Sir, we believe it may be headed towards the Basin. Its flight path shows no target destination, but we believe it will end up within fifteen to twenty miles of the Field."

Jeb slowly let his breath out. The situation could be contained after all.

"Should I send a recovery team to the Field?" the man asked.

"No," Jeb said, silently swearing. "No. We don't want it exterminated just yet."

He turned back to the technician.

"Call Tanya," he said.

* * *

_**Airspace over Death Valley**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

I love flying; this much I know already. I'm nearly drunk with a freedom I've never felt before. To think of all the things I can do now, all the things I can learn!

And maybe I can even become someone else entirely. Someone who never knew the School, someone who's never killed, a regular boy without wings.

Am I free to forget?

I don't know yet, I don't even know where I'm headed. I do know that I must come back for the others one day, because this freedom is too good for me to keep to myself. I can imagine the joy on Max's face as she spreads her wings to fly, the look in Iggy's sightless eyes as he feels the rush of the air, the astounded silence of Nudge when she looks up at the vibrant heavens.

But if I'm going to get them out, I'll have to find a way to stay out first.

I don't know whether or not they're tracking me. The sand is still hot down here in Death Valley, even this early in the morning, so they won't be able to track my body heat. Maybe they put a tracer chip of some sort in me – I wouldn't know. What if they have a helicopter? Then things will be over quick. But I can't hear anything besides the flow of the air.

Hopefully I'll be to small and dark for them to see. My wings and hair are black, my skin is dark, and my clothes are a dark blue. Maybe that will keep them from seeing me. I don't think radar is good enough to detect flying boys either.

Even if they aren't tracking me, I still have other problems. Like where I'm going to go. I know that the School is in Death Valley, California, which is in a large country called the United States, but I don't know whether that's good or bad. I don't know if there are any towns nearby. I know big cities exist somewhere in California – a lot of whitecoat plans involve San Fransisco and Los Angeles – but I've only seen pictures of cities.

I suppose I should stay out here in the desert, away from people. I'm afraid of normal people, mostly because I don't even know what they're like. What if they speak an entirely different language?

Here in the desert I would be alone with the animals. Sometimes at night, I would stay up just to listen to the animals outside. I'm pretty sure they could be my friends. After all, I'm not entirely human myself.

In the desert I could _hide_. From the whitecoats and Erasers and School.

I'll stay in the desert, then. I have too, anyway, because I have another problem. My wings are getting heavy, and my muscles feel like they're on fire. And I'm _hungry_. I don't know how much longer I can fly.

I have to land soon. I need to find a good place where I can be safe until the whitecoats stop searching.

I've flown out of the Valley to higher ground already. I can only see a few lights beneath me, and no good hiding places. It's so dark out here – so dark that the starlight seems almost blinding. I can barely make out a line of mountains on my left. They look so small from way up here in the sky! I wonder if these are the same mountains I sometimes see from the School. I hope they're not – I think I've flown farther than that.

Suddenly another thought occurs to me. I've never landed before. I don't even know how to begin!

I decide that I'll start by diving. The earth rushes up to meet me, and I can see the mountains growing impossibly large. I'm going faster than I've ever gone before, and my heart races with adrenaline and excitement.

Finally I decide that the mountains are close enough; I can make out individual crannies by now. I straighten and flare out my wings. The force against them is almost overwhelming, and my wings fill with air until I begin to think they might snap.

But I'm slowing down now, and the pull gradually lessens. I spot a thin ledge in front of a line of boulders and head for it. I decide I should probably hit the ground running.

The earth approaches faster than I expected. All of a sudden, I'm running and my feet hit hard ground. I flare my wings again, trying to slow myself down, but I trip and sprawl forward onto my hands.

I lie there, fingering the still-warm earth, letting my wings cool. A dull pain throbs in my left leg, but I hardly feel it. Instead I let all the emotions of the day run through me again, and let all the fatigue run out. I still hold on to that sensation of joy I had when I first flew. I latch on to it, savoring it, but then reality rears its ugly head and tells me that daylight is coming soon, and I need to find shelter before then.

I slowly get up and start looking for a place to hide.

* * *

**Author's Note: **For any of you interested, I've started posting Narnia stories and original fiction. Can't remember if I've told you this before... but if I have, it can't hurt to hear it again. Like this familiar old line... review. Please! 


	11. Part 2: The Storm, con'td

**Author's note:** I've moved my notes off my profile page and into my blog: http://FairerStillTheMoonlight. (Homepage link on my profile page - this doesn't let me write the complete address). So if you're interested, you can check out my comments on this chapter, life, the universe, and everything. If you're not, read, review, and have fun... I truly hope this puts you on the edge of your seat.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**September 9, 2005**_

It was Max's gasp of surprise that brought me back into the real world. I slowly opened my eyes, knowing exactly what I would find.

Who I would find.

Jeb.

Jeb, looking through the bars of Max's crate with love shining from his eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. "I missed you."

Max's face revealed her shock and anger. Betrayal was written all over her features. I felt a current of surprise run through me, but it didn't register on my face. I hadn't known how Max had felt about Jeb. I knew she trusted him and looked up to him, but she was always our leader. I didn't think she needed anyone to tell her what to do.

Her words from a few days ago came back to me: _"I wish Jeb were here...__I should have parents, so they could take care of this..."_

I hadn't known. Truly, I hadn't.

Max had depended on Jeb. He had been her father. He'd tried to be a father to all of us – even to me. Even though he knew what I'd done.

Jeb was Max's hero, her savior.

I mentally swore at myself for not realizing it earlier. I'd just assumed that she knew he was bad, the way I did. I thought she'd known that he would leave, go back to the School.

_Selfish, selfish_, I told myself. _Of course she didn't know. How could she? You won't even tell her. If she knew, she could've been saved this heartache. She may even have thought of a way out..._

Except that there was no way out.

Jeb opened the door of Max's cage and led her down the hall.

Then he looked back. At me.

I felt the fire of hatred in his eyes. _We'll talk later_, it said.

_Yes, Jeb,_ I snarled inwardly, to drown out the pain. _Let's talk._

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**Black Mountains, CA**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya smiled as she lay down the phone. They were still clueless. Still playing directly into her hands. They'd changed the Plan on her, and so she'd changed it on them. Of course, they didn't know about that. All that mattered was that, in the end, she would win.

It would serve them right, for taking her daughter.

She turned to her computer screen and watched the progress of a single red dot. So this was the boy. He was turning out exactly as planned – a testament to her genetic engineering skills. Much less could be credited to the harsh training methods used by those bozos at the School.

She pulled up his file on her computer, looking with pride at the DNA strand that was uniquely his. Countless hours had gone into this experiment; she was particularly proud of this one, because she'd done everything on such short notice. She'd been lucky to get the embryo at all – all of the avian hybrids except Max had been engineered after actual conception. It prevented the transfer of genetic memory that had occurred when they'd injected the DNA prior to fertilization. Fortunately, Max hadn't discovered this particular failure yet.

The boy was ten years old and already four foot ten, and very strong. Psyche reports indicated a strong protectionist instinct, vivid sense of ethics, high emotional control and strong dependence on the other hybrids. A little accident-prone, to be sure, but already a skilled fighter and logical thinker. The memory upgrade had introduced some strange emotional impacts, but nothing that couldn't be worked out in time.

Still, he was perfect for her Plan.

Her Plan, version 2.0.

Her revenge on ter Borcht and the Government.

But most importantly, her revenge on Jeb.

Tanya reached out and tapped on her radio connection. "Report," she barked.

"Units one, two, and three coming into position now," a voice crackled over the radio.

"Keep that chopper tracing him, pilot. Where's four, five, and six?" Tanya demanded.

"Circling, trying to keep the noise down. We can't afford to alert it."

_Like I didn't know that_, Tanya thought, irked. "Get them there quickly. We've got to get him into the Field before he starts to suspect."

"Will do, ma'am."

"Start setting up the equipment the second you get there. I swear, if you don't do everything perfectly, the next man running with the Erasers will be you." Tanya nervously tapped her fingers on the desk, flicking her eyes between objects on her screen.

"You won't have to worry about that," came the flat voice on the radio.

Tanya allowed herself a tiny smile. The subject was headed straight into the trap. Soon it would begin.

Today was the beginning of the end.

_**

* * *

**_

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

I creep into the small cave, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The sun won't rise for at least an hour more. I think I'll be safe until then.

The cave smells earthy and good. The air inside is cool, in contrast to the still-warm outdoors. I go about fifteen feet into the cave and then stop, exhausted.

I have some sort of a plan now, at least. I'll sleep during the day and fly by night. I know I can't go to the cities, because they'll notice my wings, and no matter how much I want to expose the School and the fiendish whitecoats, I can't, because then they'll kill the rest of the Flock to hide the evidence. So instead I'll fly into the mountains. I've heard that there's a great range of mountains called the Rockies to the east. I can hide in the mountains, until I'm ready to come back for the others.

I just have to stay alive and free until then. I pull my wings tightly into my back and curl up near a rock, keeping one eye half open and both ears listening. I have to stay alert. They're looking for me. I can't let them find me.

The cool air is soothing, and I gratefully pull it into my lungs. It's not as intoxicating as the night air, but it's still good. No antiseptic or ammonia smells anywhere.

The noise of the desert animals is almost deafening out here. It's all I can hear – there's no wind, no water, no sound of pursuit.

I gradually close both of my eyes, and I'm almost dozing when it happens.

At first I mistake it for rain on the roof, but then my brain turns on and tells me that it doesn't rain in the summer, and there's no metal roof. It's footsteps, heavy, running footsteps.

I spring to my feet just as a shadow darkens the entrance to the cave. I freeze in shock for an instant; there's no mistaking that silhouette. It's an Eraser, fully morphed and out for blood.

I run. I know his eyes will take some time to adjust to the light, and I use that to my advantage. I run deeper into the cave; there's no getting out, not with an Eraser between myself and the only entrance I know.

There's a rock formation ahead of me; I dive behind it, waiting for the Eraser to stumble by. My mind is a tornado of thoughts – I've been found out, and if they're coming to catch me they'll send a whole hoard of Erasers – how did they even follow me? Did they know where I was every second of the time? What if they'd just let me escape so they could torture me?

I don't know any of the answers, but I know I had to stay free. I am _not_ going back to a cage. Death would be better.

The Eraser can only half-way see in the dim light, and he passes right by me. I leap up to make a dash for the entrance, but then I see the second shadow.

This is the end, then.

I'm trapped between two monsters, in a dark underground cave. I turn around, chasing the first Eraser, hoping that somehow I can still escape. I dodge stalagmites and ridges, duck under formations hanging down from the cave like drooling Eraser fangs. Suddenly the tunnel widens to become a cavern. I see the first Eraser at one end, turning as he realizes I'm behind him. The second one is breathing down my neck.

I dodge to the side, but even though I'm small and fast, the Erasers will eventually run me down. They're much stronger than I am.

I jump over a pair of legs as one tries to slide tackle me, and then I suddenly remember that I can fly.

_How high is the top?_ I ask myself even as I climb up onto a rock and launch myself into the air. _About thirty-five feet._

Enough room for me to snap out my wings, flap once, and soar over both werewolf heads. I don't know if I can hover, but I don't want to find out right now. I'd eventually fall out of the sky, anyway – from fatigue if I can hover, and stupidity if I can't.

I tuck in my wings, twist, and spot the small tunnel at the opposite side of the cavern. Perhaps even too small for Erasers to fit through.

At the last possible moment, I unfurl my wings again and am rewarded with a sharp pain as my tired muscles stretch back. My fall slows, and then I fold my wings again and hit the ground rolling. I'm on my feet and into the tunnel before the shock of the fall even registers.

Surprisingly, the ground here is smooth. I run as fast as I can, but the Erasers are still gaining on me. They're the size of young adult males, with legs long enough to match. I'm tall for my age, but the difference in height is still to my disadvantage.

I can't last much longer. They'll overtake me, then...

I skid to a halt as I suddenly realize that the path in front of me has just broken off. Into a very large, dark, pit. With no way out, either up or to the sides.

I look back. The Erasers' long, white teeth glitter in the pale darkness, ready to tear into my flesh.

So how will I die? Torn to shreds by Erasers? Or killed by a suicide jump into a bottomless pit?

I turn and leap into the hole.

Because the chance that there is actually a bottom is better than the chance that the Erasers would restrain themselves enough not to murder me.

I sweep out my wings yet again, feeling the tips scrape against hard rock on either side. It's dark down here, so dark I can't see anything, can't feel anything except the cold, damp air rushing up to meet me.

Even if there is a bottom I won't be able to see it.

Then the wind stops rushing, and for a moment I wonder why. Then realization hits me, and I pump my wings down violently.

There _is_ a bottom! And it's coming up fast...

My legs hit something and fold, trying to absorb the shock.

Then I break through a thin surface and blinding light pours out and scalds my retinas. My wings go limp in shock as I fling up my hands to shield my eyes from the assault.

My feet touch ground, my legs fold, and out of instinct I collapse sideways into a roll.

I stagger to my feet, still protecting my eyes, squinting through the slits to examine my surroundings.

I'm in a small room. There's carpet on the floor and pieces of drywall scattered around, from my fall through the roof. The walls are painted white, and light comes from fluorescent tubes mounted on the walls.

There's a woman standing in front of me.

Then I know four things with dead certainty.

This woman looks almost exactly like Max.

She's pointing a gun at me.

She has a plan.

And I never really was free.


	12. Oops! The missing part of the last chapt

**Author's Note: **Oops! This was supposed to go in the last chapter. Sorry...but here it is now. I'll post the next chapter soon. 'Course, it would help if you guys would review, hint, hint. In other news – I'm tickled pink for winning 2nd place in a LOTR fan-fic contest! The first I ever entered! But I'll stop rambling now and let you get to the fabled missing chapter I'm sure you are all dying to read.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya held the weapon steady with both hands, staring down the barrel into the wide black eyes of the hybrid boy. He was crouched in a fighting stance, but she knew that right now he couldn't move if he wanted to. The large eyes and slack shoulder muscles told her that this boy was in shock.

Perfect.

"Don't move," she said, adjusting her stance to make it appear slightly more aggressive. The boy blinked.

Right now, his world was collapsing. He was experiencing a complete emotional turnaround, and as his system was breaking down, he was seeking for truths to cling to.

She would give him some, then bind him forever to them.

"We've followed you ever since you left the School," she said confidently, to remove any doubts he still might have. "Your escape was arranged. We wanted to bring you here. You'll see why in just a few minutes. But right now, I don't want you to even think about flying. I'll shoot you if you so much as move a feather."

She waited for a response, but the boy didn't even twitch. She scowled.

"Do you understand? Nod if you do."

_Those idiots at the School must've gotten the IQ reports wrong,_ she muttered to herself in Russian.

"I understand," the boy answered in the same language. Tanya masked her reactions, banishing her surprise from her face. After all, some of the trainers at the School spoke the language most of the time – it really wasn't so surprising that the bird kids picked it up. Well, this boy might have a few tricks in store. Chalk one up for him.

"I understand that you're lying," the boy continued. "You didn't know when I would escape. You didn't want to bring me here just yet. And you won't shoot me."

Tanya was tempted to put a bullet through his thigh right then, but she hadn't gotten to where she was by random acts of anger.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she said in English, to throw him for loop. "I've got five units of Erasers here, after all. I shouldn't have to take the trouble to kill one stubborn little mutant."

"You're Max's mother," the boy said.

Tanya couldn't stop her eyes from widening. Was it that obvious? She paused, unsure of where to begin again. This boy was very strong. His reality had been unraveled in the last few seconds, and he was still trying to gain the upper hand.

"I am," she finally said. "And I'm going to tell you one thing, Fang. Take it as absolute truth."

Tanya leaned forward slightly and met his slate black eyes. "This is all part of a Plan. And there are only two ways out of here. The first is to succeed. The second is to die."

She pulled back and took a small device out of her pocket.

"Let the games begin," she said, flipping a switch.

A steel panel slid over the hole in the roof, and then the floor under the boy began to tilt. The last she saw of him was his small face, raised towards the ceiling, wordlessly screaming his terror.

Tanya smiled, pulled back a panel in the wall, and turned on her computer to watch.

* * *

**A/N:** So... what do you think? 


	13. Part 2: The Storm, cont'd

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took so long! Tempus fugit when you're busy. Thanks to bubble blower and kassandra not cassey, the only people who've reviewed lately.. I appreciate it! Hope the rest of y'all like the chapter, even if you don't let me know.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**September 9, 2005**_

Jeb slammed the door shut and curtly motioned for the Erasers to watch me. Like I could do anything – my hands were fastened behind my back, over my wings. I pretended to be bored because I knew he hated that.

Jeb marched over to a cabinet and took out a cup, pouring himself a drink in true bad-guy style. Except that he was drinking coffee, not alcohol. He threw back a gulp and I silently wished that he would scald himself. After what he'd done to Max...

But I couldn't blame it all on him, because I'd done it too.

"I don't suppose you have any idea what it's like," he started in Russian, because one of the Erasers was Ari. "To lose my child and my wife, then to lose my wife all over again – and have to stare at her murderer for two years, pretending to _love_ you – to be your _father_ when I'd just as soon have you killed."

"Of course I don't know," I answered flatly, in English. "I'm just an experiment, remember? Since when did I have an identity? A soul?" Everything I'd wanted to scream at him over the last few years came rushing forward, but I waited. I'd have my chance, soon.

Jeb's glare was poisonous. Ari, however, was glowing – evidently he'd misunderstood my sarcastic words. To my immense satisfaction, it earned him a glare from Jeb. "If he uses English again, bite him," Jeb snarled. Quite a bit less to my satisfaction, but Ari looked delighted.

Jeb looked like he wanted to pace, but he evidently knew how cliché that was and chose to stand still. "Trust me, you wouldn't even be alive if Tanya hadn't had a purpose for you."

"Then why are you still around?" I shot back, sounding more like Max than myself.

Hey, being silent all the time can get a little boring.

More dagger glares from Jeb. I'm pretty sure he would've started choking the life out of me right then, except that that was also a cliché. Instead, he took a deep breath and another sip of coffee.

"Fang," he said, much calmer now. Surprising since he'd just drunk caffeine. "You weren't created solely for experiments. We had a purpose in mind when we made you. I can't expect you to even have a hint about what that is, but you're fulfilling it already. It's all part of a master Plan. So you can thank Tanya that you're even alive today. It was her Plan, and if you hadn't killed her..."

Jeb's face contorted in anger and grief. Suddenly he turned to me and started shouting. "You have no idea what she meant to me! She was everything to me! Everything, you hear? Losing her..." his voice cracked. "... and to _you_, of all people..."

He started yelling again. "How could you? How could you murder her like that? She was the most amazing woman I've ever met, the love of my life, and you just... _slit her throat_, like she was some ..."

His eyes were bloodshot, and I dropped mine to avoid them. He thought I didn't know exactly what I'd done? He thought I'd forgotten? How I wish I could forget! I've spent half a lifetime trying ... He thinks it doesn't haunt me as much as it haunts him, thinks it didn't change me, didn't even impact my life?

Dear God, I can't even begin to describe what it's done to me! Even now, the pain was the same. Worse, even, multiplied by Jeb's anguish.

And even though I hated the man, I could never wish anyone the pain that I had.

He was planting nails in my heart, and I was pounding them in. I couldn't take it, couldn't ever take it, even though I deserved it and so much more, so I did what I do best – I hid it. I swept it under the rug and flung the attack back at him, anything to keep me from looking at myself.

"I don't suppose you _divorced_ her, either, and plotted to steal her baby." I said, surprised at the bitter emotion in my voice.

"I did what I had to do," Jeb said slowly, words laden with ice. "I did it all for her and her Plan. It was for the best."

At the mention of the Plan, the tendrils of light started gathering together again. I was too tired to brush them away yet again, so I let them come. I already knew where they led, so...

Wait.

What was this?

The pattern was different this time... I quickly followed the network, diving into the events and conversations of the last few days – the Erasers showing up, Angel kidnapped, more Erasers, our house burned down, back at the School...

I followed the streamers of light, coming up on dead ends where there should be paths, and gaping holes which should have been filled.

I knew the Plan, didn't I?

Of course I did – I could still remember seeing the entire network that day on the Field.

So why were there suddenly holes and missing connections?

_There's only one possibility_, my mind told me, and I knew it at once.

The Plan had changed.

_**

* * *

**_

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya tapped off the volume on her earpiece and folded her hands, concentrating. The Plan was at a critical stage. It would still go on, no matter what – she had a contingency plan for every possible scenario - but how it would progress was an entirely dependent variable. If these games of hers succeeded, the best possible scenario would march forward.

She had two goals for this series of tests: firstly, to bind the boy entirely to her Plan, and secondly to see if he would be strong enough to carry it out.

The first should be easy. She'd already removed all his points of reference, and the chamber he was in now could only reinforce his sense of disorientation. There was only one certainty in the little world she'd created for him. Tanya had made it clear to him just a moment ago. All of this was a part of the Plan.

This would be the only constant for him – and he'd have to cling to this truth if he wanted to survive. She'd bind his moral compass to her Plan, making him a very powerful weapon – who she intended to use against her nemesis.

If he couldn't do this, he would be no use to her. Tanya had made a backup, in case he didn't work out. But still, this one would be the best choice. And the Government didn't look kindly on the multi-billion dollar setup she'd needed for these tests.

Government psychologists had assured her that these scenarios would evoke every human emotion imaginable, and then reverse them with remarkable rapidity. She'd watched them plot the games for weeks on end, constantly updating them when new psychological data arrived. They'd guaranteed her that this would succeed.

Tanya knew better, of course. There could be no guarantees – variables were variables. You could predict the outcomes, but only one would actually happen. And the hardest variables to work with were human beings. Yes, unlike most of the whitecoats she actually viewed the mutants as persons. How could she not? Her own daughter was one of them.

Her own little Max was one of them.

_All of this is for you, Max,_ Tanya thought tenderly. _It's not just for me. This will hurt you, but it will make you into a woman who can't be hurt. You'll be invincible._

_And when you're invincible, sweetie,_ she continued, _You'll be able to save the world._

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

My mind is spinning out of control; I don't know what's happening. For a moment, I just stand in shock as the woman speaks to me.

"Don't move," she says. It takes my sluggish brain an eternity to process the two simple words. And just when I begin to understand what's happening , she speaks again.

"We've followed you ever since you left the School," she says, and I know she believes it to be true. She speaks with the slight accent that some of the whitecoats have, the accent they trained us never to use.

Just as I was about to find firm ground, it's all rocks and boulders again. I was followed? I know it's possible. But how could they even have known...

"Your escape was arranged. We wanted to bring you here," the woman continues, bright tendrils blossoming from her brain. Her name is Tatiana Kharitonova, and she truly did expect me to escape.

They knew? How could they know? Could they see plans, too? Did they plant the Eraser tooth where I could find it? Did they see the shortened cuffs of my pants, or find a speck of blood on the floor?

"You'll see why in just a few minutes," she continues, and my baffled mind cries out for an explanation, any explanation, to makes sense of all the conflicting data being thrown at me.

"But right now, I don't want you to even think about flying. I'll shoot you if you so much as move a feather."

That's more predictable, more familiar. I'm in a dangerous situation and the woman Tatiana is threatening me. I can deal with that, but what about...

This woman looks almost exactly like Max. She's got the same fair hair, the large hazel eyes and fine cheekbones.

I pick a thread and follow it back through the years, and then I see that she was once Tatiana Kharitonova _Batchelder_. That she once had a baby...

This is Max's mother.

The head whitecoat Jeb Batchelder was Max's father?

"Do you understand?" Tatiana asks me. "Nod if you do."

She was married to a whitecoat – the _head_ whitecoat. I can't trust her; she's trying to trap me. Well, I know how to play this game.

She mutters something to herself in whitecoat-speak, and I decide to throw her off balance.

"I understand," I say in the same language. Of course, at the School none of us were allowed to speak this way, but we'd heard it since we were babies so we all understood it.

There's no response from her. She must have learned to hide her reactions, too. I take advantage of the pause.

"I understand that you're lying," I say, almost certain that this is true. All the whitecoats ever do is lie. _This won't hurt, _they say, _It will only take a second. You'll be fine, _they say.

"You didn't know when I would escape," I continue. Just because she knew that I would escape didn't mean she knew when. "You didn't want to bring me here just yet. And you won't shoot me." This is a bluff, of course, but I do know how valuable I am to the School. The whitecoats grumble about it all the time.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she says in my regular language. "I've got five units of Erasers here, after all. I shouldn't have to take the trouble to kill one stubborn little mutant."

My eyes narrow. If she's right, and this really was planned, she could have a whole army of Erasers here already. But if she's lying... there might not be a single one. Except for the two stranded at the top of the pit.

"You're Max's mother," I say, stalling for time, trying to think. If she was telling the truth, then I'd never really been free. I'd just been playing another one of their elaborate games. Despair gathers on the edges of my mind, but I push it back. The joy I'd felt up there in the night sky is still too real for me to deny, or forget. I _was_ free. Maybe I still am.

Tatiana's eyes widen slightly. I think about rushing her and knocking away the gun, but she's got both hands on it firmly and something tells me that she'll shoot before I even reach her.

"I am," she says, in response to my challenge. "And I'm going to tell you one thing, Fang. Take it as absolute truth."

She used my name? Whitecoats never used my name. It was always some variation of "Subject R013191" with an occasional "Fang" at the end, but never just my name. What is she trying to do?

"This is all part of a Plan. And there are only two ways out of here. The first is to succeed. The second is to die."

My mind is reeling; I can't process that much information – I'm still stuck in various branches of her plan, trying to figure out how to beat it, and I can't extract my mind in time to absorb her comment.

She fingers a device, then looks at me. "Let the games begin," she says, and the ground falls out from under me.

Literally.


	14. Part 2, The Storm, cont'd

**Author's Note: **Didn't realise it'd been so long since I updated...sorry. But not many of you have been reviewing, so it does make things like updates tend to slip my mind a little. I started writing this story again today, after about a month or two of ignoring it. So... it'll be coming to an end soon, for me at least :) Enjoy the chapter, and please do review. It really does make a difference to me.

* * *

_**The School**_

_**September 10, 2005**_

My mind was so absorbed in confusion that I couldn't even remember what Jeb had said. _The Plan had changed?_

How was that possible? The only thing in life that never changed was the Plan. The Plan was – well, almost like God to me. It was set in stone, absolute for eternity.

I frantically fell into my mind, following threads one by one. Maybe I had just forgotten. Or maybe my ability to see plans was diminishing.

But I never forget. Ever.

I came up with so many dead ends and missing links that I was forced to admit it. The one constant in my universe had just varied.

Shocked, I withdrew for an instant, only to find Jeb's blazing eyes locked on my face. I blinked, trying to remember what he had said. _"__I did it all for her and her Plan. It was for the best."_

That didn't make any sense. He must have said something else that I hadn't heard.

Immediately I knew that I had to keep him talking. It would be my only chance to learn what the Plan had mutated into.

"So, tell me," I said, knowing my words probably didn't make any sense to him, but hopefully they would trigger a new set of synapses in his brain. "Tell me my destiny."

He looked at me as if I were crazy, but the words called an association into his mind and a new tendril darted out onto the web. I seized it and rode it, backwards and forwards through the years.

I was engineered primarily as a protector of their main experiment – Max – and as a older-brother figure for the upcoming experiments, but I knew that already. I skimmed forward, through the years of testing, training, and upgrades, found myself here, at the beginning of Max's trials, then skipped forward. Max would pass them, save the world, and then -

Wait.

I zoomed back quickly, then looked more carefully at the rushing images. I saw Max standing behind a lectern, speaking, then snapping out her wings for the world to see. I saw the President of the United States under attack from the press, saw the United Nations in an uproar, infuriated over the secret programs.

This was wrong. We were never supposed to reveal ourselves. The United States had nothing to do with us, aside from a little corruption in the national parks system, so why would the UN care? Because the US was being framed for the Government's actions, of course...

I saw a mushroom cloud rise over the Empire State Building, and another over the Eiffel Tower. Nuclear war?

No, no, this was wrong, it was supposed to be the avian flu, not nuclear fallout...

Blackened, radioactive fields stared up at me, dead and decaying human bodies, deformed from the radiation poisoning. Earth's population, 2008: 15,000.

It was supposed to be 4.5 billion.

I jumped ahead, as far down as I could see, looking for what I knew I would find. I needed to see the child...

Darkness. Then white. An operating table?

No child.

I dove onward in a frenzied search. I hit a wall and bounced out.

Blocked. I couldn't go on from here. There was a piece missing.

I blinked. Only a few seconds had passed. Jeb had collected himself, and was talking to me.

"Don't be a fool. No one learns their destiny simply by being told what it is. Max won't. Neither will you."

Then he leaned closer. "But I will tell you one thing."

"When you die, I'll be there enjoying every second of it."

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

No plan was infallible. Tanya frowned at the screen and muttered a curse. She'd studied all the reports; the subject shouldn't be behaving like this. Her heartbeat quickened as she willed the boy to _think_, to pass this first tiny test. How hard could it be for someone like him?

Tanya glanced at the tiny timer at the edge of her screen. If the boy didn't start doing something in the next few seconds, they'd have to terminate him. Then she'd have to fall back on plan B and augment the second mutant the way she'd upgraded this one. Of course, the tests would have to entirely re-written for him. It would be slightly harder to disorient a blind subject who was used to that sort of thing.

She'd made Iggy as Fang's back-up, in case the older boy for some reason couldn't fulfill his purpose. The staff at the School had moved both boys in with Max at the same time, so she knew each of them equally well. Come to think of it, she probably knew Iggy better because he talked more. A few years ago, when they were all five, the staff had decided to develop Max's compassionate side by blinding Iggy. Jeb hadn't wanted to, and he was the head of the School, but Tanya had gathered a coalition to overrule him. No one messed with her Plan.

Especially not Jeb.

Jeb.

Tanya felt the familiar bitter tide bathe her, then recede as she thought of what she had in store for him.

They hadn't spoken to each other since that terrible day. If business forced them to interact, they spoke or sent messages through colleagues.

Tanya had loved him once, loved him passionately. It was obvious that he'd never loved her. He'd _remarried_ and had a _son_. Tanya felt the bile rise in her throat as it did every time she recalled that fact. How could he ever love another woman more than her? Unless he'd never loved her at all?

Not only that, but Jeb had obviously entered into some sort of agreement with Roland that gave him charge of the School and Max's training. That should have been Tanya's job, but, as Roland had tried to explain after she attempted to strangle him, the Government needed to have her "detached".

Detached.

Oh, they had no idea how detached she was. Detached from a reality where mothers loved and cared for their precious little children. Detached from a world where justice was more than a myth. And now, detached from the Government's insane ambition.

Tanya had a new vision, one where Jeb would see exactly how much pain he'd caused her and then suffer ten times more. He'd had the joy of raising Max, of seeing his daughter every day of her life, while she'd had only empty memories, deep wounds, and unfulfilled dreams.

On the computer screen, a red light blinked and Tanya's breath shortened as she saw the room fill with poison gas.

The boy had failed?

She leaned back in her chair and wiped a hand over her brow. So this was it. She had to move on to the backup plan. Ten years of her planning had just been wasted because of a boy who was too stupid to see...

Tanya jerked upright as she saw movement on the split camera display. The boy was alive? Yes! Tanya watched as he entered the chute, gasping, and slowly sat back in her chair, trying to calm her nerves.

Yes, the boy would succeed.

Then she would use him to utterly ruin Jeb.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Rushing air, the scrape of my skin on steel, sheer panic and adrenaline coursing through my body. I'm falling into the unknown – the only thing I know is that at the bottom is an abyss of evil. I pull my wings in tight through the slits in my shirt, hoping that the cloth will prevent the steel from eating off my feathers.

Then before I've gotten my body used to the falling/sliding sensation, I'm out. I fall onto a hard surface, slapping it hard with my arm to absorb the shock of the impact. I don't know that I've closed my eyes, but the second I open them, I feel a searing pain.

The world is bright and infinite.

I fling up my hands on instinct, trying futilely to protect my vision. To keep my mind from being sucked right out of my body.

I see a billion of me flinging up my arms, cowering, turning and searching for any relief. But there is none.

I'm at the center of a cube of mirrors. I see infinity and it blows my mind. I can't tell which is the real me; there's so many, they're doing the exact same thing as me and there is absolutely no _end_.

My mind tells me that things are finite; yet I'm staring at the infinite. It's like staring at God. My small mind can't reconcile this; I must be losing my sanity, my soul inside this hell...

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. The thoughts I've suppressed ever since my conversation with Tatiana Batchelder come flooding back, asking for consideration. I push them aside once now, trying to concentrate on the present.

It's almost comfortable in this silent darkness. Here my world is finite again, the way it should be...

I need to get out of here.

_...There are only two ways out of here. The first is to succeed. The second is to die..._

So how do I succeed?

I think. I'm trapped in a room of mirrors. How big is it? Does it go anywhere? How do I escape?

I open my eyes and immediately squeeze them shut again. _It's infinite, boundless!_ my senses scream, but I know it's only _mirrors_, they've got definite dimensions.

I slowly extend my shaking hands and take a step forward. Then another, and another, until I feel a cool glassy surface. I exhale slowly, feeling some uncertainty leave with my breath. Then I carefully turn around and count the steps to the other side. Five steps. This room is five steps across. I know my stride is exactly 92.5 centimeters – the benefits of scientists meticulously recording your every quality. So the room is 4.62 meters across. I turn to the left and find the wall, and repeat the process. It's the same width. I know I can't reach the roof, so I envision myself in some sort of elongated rectangle.

Well, this is helpful. Not! How do I get out of here?

_Succeed... or die..._

I angrily shove the voice away. I have a choice, thank you very much! I swear I'll beat this plan of hers...

But to do that I have to know the plan. Angrily I grab the last thread I got from her, and dive down the path. I see a series of blurred images, flashes of light and emotion, then there's no more about these sick games of hers, only...

Back at the School? No, no, not ever, I'll die before I go back...

Years zip by, then I see a house in Colorado, and Jeb and us, the Flock, together, _laughing_ and _flying_ and ... _free_??

It's over before I can even recognize it properly, and I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, looking over at a map of the world, seeing...

Terror. Revenge. Obsession. Pain, hurt, rage, every raw and terrible primal emotion known to man...

Death.

And then new life. But a different kind of life, that was only half-alive because...

Then the image disappears and I'm back in my blackness, horrified.

I've just been shown a plan, that is much more than me and extends far past the present. And all of it is in the mind of Tatiana Kharitonova Batchelder.

My mind is too tender to grab the streamer again, and anyhow I'm distracted by an almost silent hissing sound...

I open my eyes for only a split second, yet it's long enough for them to widen in shock. A small stream of gas is being released into the room...

I quickly take a last gulp of air and dive to the floor, wildly tapping on the glass and listening for the echo which will tell me that I'll survive. I cover one wall, and I know that the room is already full of the gas when I head over to the second. I keep tapping with both hands, even kicking at the glass in some places, but it doesn't budge or even crack. My lungs are straining now, and I fling myself at the third wall. I still can hear only the dull, solid _thump_ of my fists on the glass. I'm starting to see stars as I crash against the fourth wall. My body begs me for a breath, but I know I can't open my mouth until...

The wall is solid.

_There's no way out!!!_

_Except death._

I open my eyes in desperation. _I won't die in the dark! _The room is fogged with a pale gas that fortunately obscures the infinite reflections of my terrified eyes.

I feel as if my lungs are about to burst; so this is how it feels to die...

My head is spinning, I'm on the inside of a sphere rolling down Everest and top is bottom and bottom is top...

I snap my eyes back open and almost laugh at my stupidity. _Top is bottom and bottom is top..._

I start stomping on the glass floor, desperately searching for the weakness I know I'll -

The glass shatters and I jump on it again, then fold my arms over my face as I start to fall . My frazzled mind tells me that the air in this chute is clear, and I gratefully gather in as much oxygen as I can, feeling my body reel with the sudden flood. It's still black and I'm still falling, but I can breathe now, and I'm starting to see light at the end of a long path.

Then I'm out and preparing for another hard landing.

My knees hit something soft, and I hear a small crack. I fling out my hands for balance and blink to focus my dazed eyes.

Then I instantly recoil as I realize I've landed on an Eraser.

The Eraser is dead, his head bent at an impossible angle, blood dripping from his mouth.

I know him.

Because I killed him one year ago.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Credit goes to Susan Cooper for her maze of mirrors which I slightly modified. Also thanks to Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker for scaring me out of my skin in House. That, I'm sorry to let you know, was my inspiration for this whole sequence. evil grin Don't worry, there's much, much more to come. How badly do you want it? Let me know! 


	15. Part 2: The Storm, continued

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's been so long! I only have to write 3 more chapters till this is over (don't worry, there's at least 15 left for y'all to read) and I kind of wanted to wait till I'd finished to post the next chapter... but I'm feeling generous. So it's here early/late depending on how you look at it. Enjoy and please drop me a review!

* * *

_**The School**_

_**September 10, 2005**_

They're going to let us go, but I can't leave. I've got to stay. There's no way I can just run off and be left not knowing what the Plan is now.

I have to find out how the future changed, what I'm supposed to do with myself now. I've found out a little bit, from the whitecoats and technicians and Erasers walking around, but I couldn't get anything more out of Jeb. I was still looking at the sketch work without the key that would turn it into a vibrant painting. I knew that some School scientists had transferred from the Laboratory, where they were making more than mutants now – they were engineering viruses and poison gas and weapons delivery systems. Something horrible was on the horizon, and I couldn't see more than a few rays poking out of the blackness.

I missing a key piece of information, and I couldn't leave until I found it.

The lab door crashed open and a horde of whitecoats and Erasers entered.

"I count only four," one man said, and I silently congratulated him on his mental prowess.

"Two bought it," Ari said. "Back in Colorado." Boy, he was dumber than I'd thought. He of all people should know that the Plan didn't include killing us. Besides, hadn't he seen Iggy and Gazzy fly out of our van wreck just a few hours ago?

"This is what's left," he growled, then kicked Max's cage. "Hi Max. Miss me?"

I seethed behind my mask.

"Is the Director quite sure about this?" a lady whitecoat asked. "It seems a shame – there's so much more we can learn from them."

"Yes," replied another. "It's just too risky. Given how uncooperative the little one has been."

Erasers started grabbing our cages and flinging them onto a large flatbed cart. It occurred to me that it might seem to the others as if they were planning to kill us. Oh well. At least, if they thought that, they would still fight. And that would make our 'escape' seem all the more convincing. It would give them a moral victory, and any kind of victory, false or not, would be welcome right now.

Ari was grinning at Max, his long yellow teeth dripping. "Strong, like bull," he said.

"Your dad must be so proud," she shot back. That's my Max! So strong, much stronger than me.

I recognized the route the second the cart set out. We were going to the yard. I could see the terror on their faces as they gradually realized where we were going. Memories were filling my skull, and they had to be going through the same thing - though in much less detail, I imagined. I tried to ignore the images and flames of pain, the death-cries and blood. For an instant I wanted nothing more than to be out of there.

But I couldn't leave, not yet.

"Got your running shoes on, piggy?" Ari's deep, beautiful voice interrupted my thoughts. "Feeling like a little exercise? Wanna race? Wanna play food fight? You're the food!"

Four-year-old fear flooded my system, and I tried to shove it away. Because I _know_ they'll let us live.

At least, I'm pretty sure...

Nothing is sure anymore. I'm lost without the Plan. My life has no purpose without the Plan. I need to find out the new Plan, as fast as possible or ...

I think I may die without a Plan. I'm not sure what will happen, but I know I don't want whatever it is.

Max had an evil glint in her eye as she clamped down on Ari's fingers. The large Eraser howled and tried to extract his fingers, but Max held on. Behind them, the whitecoats couldn't see what was happening. They tried to pull Ari away, but he only shoved them off as he frantically tried to free himself. It was almost funny.

Then pandemonium broke loose as Ari started kicking Max's cage, kicked it right off the cart. He roared and sprang down, chasing after the rolling cart. I saw Max's quick fingers working a latch, then Angel scrambled out. Ari launched himself onto Max's crate and started tearing into it. It went rolling again, and he screamed in fury, shaking bleeding fingers.

Ari started ripping into the crater when suddenly a large raptor swooped down on him and sliced the back of his neck with its talons. Ouch.

Then Max was out and flung Angel into the sky. She ran over to my crate and quickly unlatched it. I burst out, consumed with finding a whitecoat.

I saw one run in front of me, waving some sort of taser. I quickly kicked up, arcing my foot over into the weapon and sending it flying. Then I grabbed his collar and slammed him against the cart.

"The Plan, what's the Plan?" I hissed at him, but he only stared back at me with wide eyes. I sighed and delivered a fast punch to his solar plexus, knocking him out cold. Then an Eraser grabbed me from behind, his arm whipping around my neck and chopping viciously. I coughed, ducked my head and bent to the side, then unwound, bringing one arm across his chest and the other under his knee and sending him sprawling.

It was Ari.

He curled up on the ground, arms around his head. Well, if he was going to leave his entire torso open, who was I to refuse? I gave him a kick then dropped to one knee and swung a fist like a pendulum into the side of his head. I straightened and snagged a crate that was sailing towards me, spinning with its momentum and bringing it right down on top or Ari. Let's see how he liked cages.

I saw a flutter of wings out of the corner of my eye. Max was taking off. The hawks were still attacking, and I definitely could see the improvements the red blotches made on the white coats. But I couldn't leave yet; I still needed to find someone..

"Fang!" Max cried, and I looked up for a split second. Long enough for a female whitecoat to get in a vicious kick to my thigh. I fell to one knee, then ducked and spun, snapping out my huge wings as I turned. I felt the whitecoat trip over my wingbones and fall, and I was instantly on top of her. I pressed my hands threateningly across her throat.

"Whose Plan is this?" I demanded. "Whose idea, who changed it?"

She obviously didn't have the faintest clue of what I was talking about. I hissed in exasperation. "One name," I said, desperate for something.

"One name, and I'll let you go." She gasped something and I frowned. Then she motioned quickly to my hands. Oh. Well, how could I expect her to talk when I was choking her?

"Miriam Avraham," she gasped. "Ask Miriam." Something clicked. It was as if computer screen had suddenly brightened – all the lines of the Plan suddenly became more vivid, even though they still led to dead ends.

I quickly released my grip and soared into the air. I'd gotten what I wanted. Now Max was calling.

The hawks flew up with me as I rose to join the Flock.

"One, two, three, four, five," Max said joyously, still urging us higher. "Fang! Get Angel!"

I looked below me and quickly dropped down to where Angel was struggling to stay aloft. We had to get her out of here, poor thing.

"Max!" A scream erupted from the ground. I glanced back, then continued upward in disgust.

Jeb. Again.

"Maximum!" he hollered, face red. "Max! _Please_! This was all a test! Don't you get it? You were _safe_ here! This was only a _test_! You have to trust me – I'm the only one you _can_ trust! Please! Come back – let me explain!"

More mind games from Jeb, of course – he'd wanted to let us go. We weren't supposed to ever return to the School again.

Or were we? Was Jeb telling the truth? I didn't know. I barely knew anything about the new Plan. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was right.

But until I discover the new Plan, I'll stick with Max.

Because even if she can never trust me, I know I can trust her.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya couldn't stop the disgusted look that spread across her face. For a second she almost empathized with the boy – flopping onto a recently thawed and heated Eraser couldn't be a pleasant experience. Especially with the still-fresh Eraser blood and scent covering the body. Hopefully the smell of rotting flesh would be overlooked by the boy's panicked senses. It was quite a masterful set-up – Tanya could almost swear he'd just killed the thing.

Deep down, under her rational scientist's exterior, Tanya truly disliked the Erasers. The human-lupine hybrids were repulsive in both appearance and manner. The former occurred only when they were fully morphed, but the latter was obvious all the time. Why the Laboratory designers had given them good looks and angel voices, Tanya would never understand.

The lumps of fur had their uses, though. Their horrific morphing process alone would put a tremble in even the strongest of men. Man's subdued fear of werewolves and superstitious nature only contributed to that effect. And the Erasers were quite capable of taking advantage of every opening. They were brutally efficient killers with savage instincts and excellent dental records.

If they weren't so impulsive and sometimes outright dumb, they'd be perfect assassins. As it was, Laboratory scientists had to be content with the killing machines they had created. They, like all the other hybrids, had been made for a reason.

Their purpose was to kill.

Of course, in Plan version 1.0, before Max had been taken, the Erasers were only meant to kill stray mutants or others the Government deemed as threats.

Now, they'd been given a entirely different mission.

In the original Plan, Tanya had insisted on gradual genetic replacement. That meant that the mutant population would, over a period of 521 years, 234 days, replace the current form of homo sapiens. She'd personally planned every generation, down to the 4,278,947,301st member of the population. Computer models had given this number as the choice number of human inhabitants on the planet, the number that Earth could best support.

Well, they were still going to get there, but in slightly different way. And a tad bit faster.

If, in early 2006, they immediately reduced the human population to approximately 5.9 billion members, over 100 years could be cut off the process.

Tanya wasn't planing to nuke anyone – how cliché was that? - but it so happened that she knew quite a number of people who deserved to die.

The first and foremost, of course, was Jeb, but she had something special in mind for him.

Jeb aside, there were still a whole lot of thoroughly rotten people walking around on the Earth. The Boss, for instance, and also Roland ter Borcht, who had effectively ruined her life. The Government personnel, their army of assassins, spies, thieves, and mercenaries, those snakes who'd effectively compromised every single nation's system of legislature and justice. To say nothing of those who were slowly but surely perverting the world's moral systems, weakening humanity to where they could justify any action as 'fair' and 'rational'. The scientists who were working on creating viruses instead of curing them, the ones more concerned with making munitions than protecting against them, the ones wasting brilliance simply for a higher salary from the black market or arms dealers...

Oh, yes, there were plenty of evil people in the world, many of whom truly believed they were good. Well, they would get a little surprise.

And a chance to do one last good thing for the world – that is, if any of them had ever done anything good in their lifetimes – they would die so that a better generation might live.

The avian hybrids weren't perfect, but they were remarkably more resilient than normal humans. With careful engineering, they could even manage to eat less and fly faster. They could be made more docile, more peace-loving, even more intelligent.

The Laboratory had produced more spectacular life-forms, to be sure, but the avians had shown the greatest adaptability of them all. In the future, humanity would need their ability to evolve in order to survive. After all, if the sun was going to explode in 2 billion years, humanity would need all the jump starts it could get.

And one day they'd look back to Tanya's work and praise her for what she'd done.

If Tanya wasn't going to get to be Max's mother, she could at least be the matriarch of new humanity. Not that she'd ever forget her daughter. Oh, no. No, no, no.

As Jeb would see soon.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

My hands fling me off the body before I can even decide what to do. I can't stop myself no more than I can suppress the involuntary shriek that I utter.

_Memories!_ Careening in, adding to my horror...

I grab my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to _not remember_, to _forget_, but that only intensifies the images.

I'm in the yard, as usual, and it's one-on-one, a fight to the death, they told me. I don't want to fight, but I don't want to die. Most of all, I don't want to kill. My hands have enough blood on them, and every time an Eraser dies, part of me dies too. He's leaping for me, fangs extended, claws outstretched, _hungry_ and _hunting_...

I cry out and open my eyes, searching for anything else to fill my mind, to distract me...

My wide-eyed gaze falls on another patch of grey fur.

_Oh no, oh no, please, God, please oh please anything but..._

He's got three thin lines of blood flowing from his wrist where I bit him, and his back is broken...

_Fangs dripping, he lunges, I duck and lash out..._

I turn and there's another nightmare with wide dead eyes, missing a tooth...

_Blood runs in front of my eyes and I blindly swipe at the gigantic wolf..._

Down, on the floor again, another, jaw broken, not breathing...

_I see red and I bring my hands closer together, even closer still, and I shout in anger and rage and primal pain and desire to hurt..._

Behind me, laid out on a ledge at an unnatural angle, head drooping so I can clearly see the patch of blood-matted fur at the base of his skull...

I spin, see him stumble, feel the cool, hard calculation of my mind as I spot my target and strike out with all my strength...

I run blindly forward, caught in a world-between-worlds, halfway between memory and reality and nightmare.

_He's got me, I can't breathe, have to break out, have to escape..._

_Run! There he is, in front of me, throat bruised just like when..._

_I stomp down, hard, hearing him gag and wheeze and then I drive my weight down, burying my knee in his throat..._

_I've killed him._

_I've taken a _life.

_I've killed him... _

_Whirling, whirling, running, always running..._

_Fighting, heat, sweat, blood..._

_Air rushing in, air rushing out, his life, my life..._

_Life no more, breath last taken, light going out, blood leaving, heart slowing..._

_My life, his life, I live, he dies..._

_I've killed him._

_I've taken a _life.

_I've killed him... and him... and him... and him..._

_I've killed._

_I'm a murderer._

_And I am evil._

_Oh, God, oh, God, have mercy on me..._

_But how could He? Someone perfect, someone holy, anyone with a speck of good in them would never... could never..._

I scream. I'm staring my sins in my face, and I can't stand the blackness of my soul.

I run, because that's all that's left for me, that's all that I've ever done.

But I know it's useless.

I can't run from myself.

I can't run from God.

I can't even run from memory.

I can't run from life, because for some reason that I can't comprehend, I still treasure it.

But there's an open passageway that leads away from this place, so I take it.

Because surely nothing on earth can be worse than this.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hmmm, that was pretty intense. Maybe I should've put a warning... oh well. Let me know what you think! 


	16. Part 2: The Storm, continuation

**Author's Note: **IT'S FINISHED!!! WOOT!!! ONE HUNDRED AND THRITY-FOUR PAGES, BABY!!! 50,000+ words!!!! Dont' worry, though, only half of it's been posted. Read, enjoy, review!!

_**

* * *

**_

_**Nevada Desert**_

_**September 11, 2005**_

* * *

I closed my eyes, breathing in the delicious, warm air. I slowly allowed some of the day's stress to slip off my feathers and join the airstream behind me. I rolled my shoulders and then tilted my head, feeling the wind part my hair and massage my scalp.

No, there was nothing quite like it. Flying.

Even though we'd just escaped from a haunted land and old enemies, and were headed straight into even more trouble. Even though poor Angel could barely fly and we had no idea where our next meal would come from. Even though I could never drop the awful burden of guilt that rode inside me.

Still.

Max had compared it to champagne once, and I had to agree with her. Not that I've ever had champagne, but the light, floating sense of pleasure has to be what she meant. This wasn't the explosive, overwhelming joy I'd felt once upon a time, but it was better than my usual emotions.

Nudge swooped closer to Max, and her words came back to me on the wind. "It's just so, so...you know?"

I almost smiled. Nudge was never hard pressed to describe anything, but even she couldn't find a word to fit this sensation.

"Yeah, I know," Max replied, and she looked so peaceful, so calm, that it brought a pang of guilt to my heart.

I shoved it down, trying to ignore it nagging at me, reminding me that I knew what was coming...

But then I realized that I really didn't know, and that troubled me far worse than anything else.

"I mean, the air, and we're up so high, and no one's after us..." Nudge rambled on.

I automatically looked around us, my eagle vision probing the skies and ground for anything suspicious. I wasn't sure what to expect next, but I was pretty sure that more Erasers would show up soon. After all, it wasn't like the whitecoats to just leave us alone when they could terrorize us with wolf boys.

I thought that the main goal of the Plan had remained the same – I'd just spent hours scrutinizing every strand I'd gotten from Jeb. They were still trying to replace humans with avian hybrids, I was fairly certain. I'd guessed that they'd grown unwilling to wait five hundred years, so they'd agreed to speed up the process by killing most of the current population. Don't ask me how they were going to do this.

But I still couldn't figure out what they wanted Max and the Flock for. Where did we come in? What was this test supposed to do for Max? For the world?

I had too many questions and almost no answers.

Except for one name.

Miriam Avraham. Every time I called up that association in my mind, the strands brightened, but I knew they wouldn't lead anywhere until I'd actually met the lady. I'd never heard the name before – I'd searched my memory several times and never hit a single match.

I sighed and shook my head, feeling the wind whip my hair in front of my eyes until I tilted my head into my usual flying position. There was nothing more I could do now, except keep searching for clues. New York, eh? The Government was bound to have an outpost somewhere there – they annually rotated their regional headquarters between twenty major U.S. cities...

"_Max_?" Nudge screamed.

I threw my weight back and angled my wings to do a quick brake and stop, something I'd picked up from the hawks.

What I saw made me instantly forget any plans I might have.

_Max was falling out of the sky._

Her wings were trailing uselessly behind her as she rapidly grew smaller and smaller. Her hands were clutched to her head and her eyes were closed...

My heart jerked and I threw myself after her.

_No, no, no, not Max, she can't die, she has to save the world..._

The wind tore at my eyes as I locked them desperately on her falling form.

I pumped my wings mercilessly, accelerating to a reckless speed, still fearing that I wouldn't be fast enough.

_What was happening to Max?_

She was closer now, and with my raptor vision I could easily make out the creases of pain imprinted on her face. She was moving her lips, groaning, as her hands cradled her head.

I threw away the last threads of caution I was holding onto and propelled myself closer to her. I must've been going two hundred miles per hour when I caught her.

The breath left me as I flung my arms around her waist and arched my wings like a parachute, trying to pull out of my dangerous dive. For a moment my wingbones creaked unbearably as I threw my head back and tried to jerk my arms up in an attempt to change direction.

G-forces tried to pull Max out of my arms, but I clung on. I fell another hundred feet before the pressure on my wings lessened and my fall began to slow. Another minute passed before I slowly started flapping my aching wings to pull us back up to altitude.

_What had just happened?_

Fortunately, I didn't have much time to ponder that. All my brainpower was involved in moving my wings and holding my arms still. I was strong, but Max weighed almost as much as I did, and I knew I couldn't go on for long like this.

But I would go until she woke up or until my wings broke. I was never going to let Max go, never going to let her fall.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness, her breathing erratic as she occasionally moaned and clutched her head. I swallowed hard, feeling her pain and wishing I could do something, anything, to stop it.

Finally, she seemed to be coming back from... whatever had just assaulted her. I felt her hands cautiously remove themselves from her skull, and she turned and looked up at me.

I saw the agony in her dazed hazel eyes and my heart went out to her. She blinked to clear her vision, and I almost smiled down at her.

"Man, you weigh a _ton_," I said, trying not to let all my relief flood my words. I had to keep up my image, you know. "What've you been eating, _rocks_?"

"Why, is your head missing some?" Max immediately shot back.

My mouth involuntarily started a smile. If Max could still come up with a reply like that, she couldn't be too seriously hurt.

But still, what on earth had just happened? One moment she was flying peacefully along, and the next...

I blocked the horrifying image – _Max falling, her tan wings trailing behind her like limp rags, growing smaller and smaller by the second_ – from my mind.

"Max, are you okay?" Nudge looked as terrified as I felt.

"Uh-huh," she lied, then gathered herself together and looked at me. "Find a place to land," she said. "Please."

It was then that I knew how much pain she was in – her tone was practically begging me. Max was our leader. She ordered, she never begged. She might coax and cajole the younger ones, but she never begged. Hardly even asked, sometimes – not due as much to our general lack of manners than to her cocksure personality.

I nodded my head and aimed for the ground, traveling as fast as I dared.

Something was wrong with Max. Desperately wrong.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

They'd always been separate to Tanya. There was Max, and there was the Flock. Max was not part of the Flock, she was special...

But then, all of them were special. The Government had poured literally billions of dollars into these human-avian hybrids in their attempt to bypass billions of years of evolution. Of course, there was no guarantee that humans would have evolved into winged creatures even if they'd had a billion years, but now evolution was no longer evolution – just as it never had been.

It was creation – and the closest the scientists could come to that was to endow humans with characteristics of other species. They weren't truly _creating_ anything, just recombining elements that had already been created.

Creation was never done without a purpose, and even this sham of 'creation' that had made the Flock had a purpose behind it. Each Flock member had been painstakingly designed for specific tasks. Their ultimate goal, of course, would be to populate and eventually replace _homo sapiens_, but they had several secondary missions as well.

Max, of course, was the leader and the maximum, just as her name suggested. She would save the world from itself, pull it out of the spiraling path of destruction it had been in for centuries. To do this, she needed to be carefully trained without being permanently scarred. Tanya wasn't sure the School was capable of doing this. Of course, if _she_ had been in charge of Max...

Tanya felt the familiar dull ache that always came when she thought of her baby girl, already almost grown up. In only eight short years she would be an adult...

Fang was created as a companion for Max, to be her best friend. After today, he would be completely bound to the Plan – and since he and Max were bound by emotional ties, Max would not be able to escape her destiny if he gently led her towards it. He was also designed as a fighter, to protect Max and do the dirty work for her so her conscience would always be clean. This was important, because the last thing the Government wanted was a hero who thought she was less than good.

Iggy was a guide for the whole Flock – even blind, he noticed things the rest of them missed. With him along, there was no way the Government's subtle clues could go unnoticed. He'd also taught Max how to take care of others.

Nudge had been made later than the others, when the Government recognized how integrated the future world would become. Engineers from many diverse fields had taken nearly two years to build a mutant who would someday be able to network with computers. She would be a literally unending stream of information – unfortunately with a mouth to match.

The Gasman had been one of the School's only failures – they'd attempted to design an avian hybrid with a metabolism that could survive on much less sustenance than previous designs. The scientists hadn't appreciated the results, and might have terminated the experiment if the boy hadn't displayed unusual vocal chord structures that allowed him to perfectly imitate any sound imaginable.

Hoping to remedy their previous mistake, they'd used the Gasman's sister in an attempt to design a more efficient metabolism. She was too young for them to judge the true effects of the experiment; most geneticists, including Tanya, believed most adjustments would not manifest themselves until after puberty.

Despite all the mistakes and uncertainties, the Flock was still a work of art, a testament to the power of modern science. Soon Tanya would use them to unleash this power on the world. That is, if the boy managed to succeed...

She felt relatively certain that he would.

She had designed this Project for success.

And she did not look kindly on failure.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

I rush down the corridor, running, simply running, my heart pounding faster than it ever has before. I've completely forgotten about Tanya's rules and her little game. I'm past all that now, trapped in the relentlessness grip of sheer terror.

I skid around a rocky bend and immediately slide to a stop. I blink rapidly and step forward, unable to help myself.

"Iggy?" I say, voice incredulous.

The blind boy is standing there, tall and pale in the dim light, a smile on his face as he hears my voice.

"Fang!"

It's Iggy's voice.

I step forward once more, surprised beyond belief, before I stop, suspicious.

This is a trap.

I know that without question. There's no way that Iggy could be here, no possible way – unless they brought him? - but then he would be scared and talking even faster than Nudge...

He's standing there, as real as anything I've ever seen, body straining towards the sound of my voice. He looks happy to see me, even relieved, but even so...

I step back and turn my body sideways, just in case.

Silence.

I run down the hall and try to dash past Iggy. There shouldn't have been silence. Iggy always speaks first, always initiates our conversations. If this was the real Iggy, he would've spoken immediately, to confirm that it really was me and make stinging remarks about how bad our situation was.

If this is the real Iggy, he'll follow me by sound, without hesitation.

If it isn't...

I have no way of knowing what will happen.

So I dive back into Tanya's plan, even as I'm shoving my feet against the cavern floor.

I try to grab for a thread about this particular test, but it slips past me in a blur of colour. I let it go; I don't have time to chase it...

I reach for another, a larger one, and grab it fiercely, riding it back and forth through time. Iggy... so this is his life. Was his life, will be his life...

Born April 3, 1991, taken by Government scientists – what was the Government? I can't waste time finding out now – and augmented with avian DNA from a certain species of songbird known for its unusual hearing range. Blinded by School whitecoats five years? Later as a psychological exercise for Subject R102790 'Maximum' to enhance and develop compassion and empathy reactions... I feel a sick anger at the monsters who had blinded my friend for a stupid test... Developed mainly as back-up for Subject R013191 'Fang' – what was this? Iggy was a _backup_? - displays extraordinary auditory senses, including but not limited to perfect pitch, possible echolocation of large objects, as well as well-developed tactile sensors capable of distinguishing materials and persons by touch... Extensive psychological testing to determine amount of emotional trauma caused by blindness and disorientation... First flight, summer of 2003... I've gone too far, so I try slipping back just a tad... Summer 2001, research on tactile nerve ending stimulation continued until Winter 2001...

This isn't Iggy.

I kept my hands up warily as I bolted past him and down the straight tunnel. He doesn't even look at me as I go by – they must've programmed a robot or something like that.

I'm surprised that nothing happened – I don't know what I'd expected, a bomb or something like that – and I risk a quick look back.

"Iggy" is slowly turning, suddenly stiff as if...

Oh, no.

He turns all the way around, and now I can see his torso, soaked red from a wound in his chest...

Oh, no.

_This isn't Iggy, Fang, keep yourself together,_ I tell myself, but still...

As if hypnotized, I step forward, drawn by the gaping wound. I come closer, and closer, until...

Until I see the point of a steel blade extended through his heart.

_This isn't Iggy, it's only a lie, only a lie..._

It may be a lie, but it's still Iggy's face, his _dead_ face, pale and lifeless and still.

_My friend's face._

I feel nauseous, then lean over and retch violently, mind struggling to reconcile the real feelings and the unreal body.

Is this how it feels to lose a friend, a brother?

I stagger on, knowing only two things.

I will die before I see any of my friends die. I never, ever want to feel this way, _ever_ – especially not if the death is real, not fake.

And I have to keep going. I have to get out of here and _beat_ this infernal game, so I can get my friends and we can all be together again. _Free_.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I probably should've mentioned earlier that my religious views tend to come out pretty strong in my writing. I won't stop that - for goodness sake it's my constitutional right - but around about a month into the writing this started turning allegorical. It happens to a lot of my stories; I've given up trying to stop it. I know; an allegory based on Maximum Ride? Well, not quite, though it has a bunch of allegoricl elements. It's the third part that is the most like that, though, so this part is still mostly action/horror/whatever. Anyway, lemme know what you think! 


	17. Part 2: The Storm, continueé

**Author's Note: **Warning: This chapter contains violence and suicidal thoughts.

Now that the unpleasant part is over, I have decided to give you readers a unique opportunity. I'd like to know when you want this story finished. I can have it all posted before the end of the year - 3rd week of December, if you want to be precise - or after the Winter holidays, about 2nd week of January. I know a lot of people go on vacations for Christmas - and that includes not reading fic -so I'd like to know what you think would be best. And let me know what you think of the story while you're at it!

* * *

_**Midwestern Desert**_

_**September 12, 2005**_

* * *

I knew there was nothing I could do about it, but I still kept thinking about the Plan. I mentally laid the two Plans side by side, looking for differences, studying the patterns. It would have been easier if I actually _knew_ the second one..

I desperately needed more information. I needed to know what the Plan was now, so I could know what to _do_, who to _be._..

I sighed and picked up a stick, wiping burnt banana goo off the end and swirling the tip through the dirt. I wasn't doing a very good job on watch; I was too caught up in my thoughts to sense if anything else came near. But if I wasn't on watch, I'd have to pretend to sleep, and I was too frustrated to feign sleep again tonight.

I went back to my thoughts until I heard a soft noise.

"Max, wake up," Angel was whispering. I relaxed when I recognized her voice, but trained my ears on the two of them nonetheless.

"I'm awake," Max said softly, sitting up and pulling Angel into her lap. "What's up, Angel?" she asked, arms tenderly encircling the younger girl.

"I've got a secret," Angel whispered, and my ears instantly strained to hear more. I probably shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but that was how I collected most of my information for discovering plans – and besides, I was on watch, I was supposed to listen to my, uh, surroundings.

"From when I was a the School," Angel continued, and my body subconsciously strained in her direction. "It's about us. Where we came from?"

I let out my breath in a soft sigh, relaxing. This was nothing I did not know ... or was it? I knew where Max came from, where our DNA came from, and that was really all that mattered...

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Max asked, almost tense.

My breath caught in my throat as my mind snatched at the significance of Angel's words. She couldn't possibly know...

_Did I have real parents?_

I sat stunned for a second, hardly believing I could've had such a mutinous thought.

It had truly never occurred to me since...

"I heard stuff." The confusion in my mind almost drowned out Angel's voice.

"Stuff people said or stuff people thought?" Max asked, always gentle.

"Stuff people thought," Angel answered, suddenly sounding worn out. "No, I want to tell you now. I mean, it's just stuff I sort of heard. I didn't understand all of it – chunks were missing. And it was from a couple different people."

My back stiffened. Could _Angel_ have the information I needed?

"From Jeb?" asked Max, voice bitter.

"No. I didn't get anything from him at all. Nothing. It was like he was dead," Angel answered.

_Curious..._

"They kept doing tests, you know and they were thinking all about me, about the flock, like, wondering where you were and if you would try to come get me."

Wait, so did this mean that our return to the School was _not_ in the Plan? I'd always assumed...

I swallowed. I knew I could never assume anything again. I was starting over.

"Anyway, I found out that another place has information about us – like where we came from," Angel said.

I couldn't help myself. I turned around and latched my dark eyes onto her face.

"Whaat?" Max gasped, echoing my thoughts. "Like our life span? Or where they got our DNA?"

_Or the new Plan?_

Angel's blond head nodded.

"Well, spill it!" Iggy said in that subtle way of his. Obviously I wasn't the only one who laid awake after hours.

"They have files on us. Like, the main files."

I came closer, hardly breathing. The main files... the headquarters?

"They're in New York. At a place called the Institute."

My starving mind lept on these revelations. I called up my skeletal map of the new Plan and tried to fit these pieces in.

"The Institute?" Max asked. "In New York City or upstate New York?"

"I don't know," Angel replied. "I think it was called the Institute. The Living Institute or something."

I felt a strand pulsate and glow, and dove down it. I frowned when I came up to the familiar blank wall, and realized that Angel truly didn't know. I looked silently at Max, hoping she would pick up on my intent.

She understood, and nodded.

"There's more," Angel said, but I didn't see how there could be... if there was, I would've seen it...

"You know how we always talk about our parents but didn't really know if we were made in test tubes?" she asked.

I gulped and quickly looked away from Max, pretending to have heard something, trying to wipe any tell-tale signs from my face.

"I saw my name in Jeb's old files," Nudge volunteered. "I really did."

"I know, Nudge," Max said, almost impatient. "Listen to Angel for a minute."

"Nudge is right," Angel blurted. "We did have parents – real parents."

My conscience couldn't take it any more, and I looked down, desperately praying that Max wouldn't look my way.

"We weren't made in test tubes. We were born, like real babies. We were born from human mothers."

_Tatiana Kharitonova Batchelder..._

"You've sat on this since yesterday?" Iggy almost snapped. "What's the matter with you? Just because you're the youngest doesn't mean you have to be the dumbest."

For such a sensitive person, Iggy can be awfully insensitive at times.

"Look, let's all calm down and let Angel talk," Max said, so innocent, so unknowing...

"Can you tell us everything you heard?"

"I only got bits and pieces," Angel started. "I'm sorry, everybody. I've just felt yucky... and it all makes me really, really sad too. I don't wanna cry again. Awhh, I'm crying again."

Poor little Angel, she'd been through so much and she was only putting herself through it all again, by remembering.

"It's okay, Angel," I told her. "We understand. You're safe now, here with us."

She shouldn't blame herself for how horrible her secrets were, it wasn't her fault. My secrets... well, that was a totally different case. Because I was completely to blame.

"It sounded like we came from different places, different hospitals. But they got us after we were born. We weren't test tube babies."

"How did they get us?" I asked, unable to stop myself. I had had a _family_? "And how did they get the bird genes into us?" I'd seen Tanya's explanation, but maybe it was wrong...

"I didn't really understand. It sounded like – like they got the genes into us _before_ were were born somehow. With a test? An amino... ammo..."

"Amniocentesis?" Max voiced my thoughts.

"Yeah. That's it. And somehow they got the bird genes into us with it."

Tatiana had been right; all of us – except Max – had been treated when we were embryos, not before.

"It's okay, just keep going," Max said.

"So we got born, and the doctors gave us to the School," Angel continued. "I heard – I heard that they told Nudge's mom and dad that she had died. But she hadn't."

My chest suddenly seemed to shrink as my breaths got shallower. She couldn't have possibly heard about Tanya... or _me_?

"I _did_ have a mom and dad," Nudge whispered, eyes full of tears. "I _did_!"

I diverted my eyes from her. It wasn't possible that I could have had...

I stopped the thought, afraid that it would only bring more pain.

"And Iggy's mom - "

Iggy tensed and almost stopped breathing.

"Died," Angel said softly. "She died when he was born."

I saw the incredible pain written on his face, and swallowed, wanting to comfort him but knowing that nothing or no one could.

"What about us?" Gazzy asked. "How could they get both of us, two years apart?"

There was only one possible answer, and it wasn't pretty.

"Our parents gave us to the School _themselves_," Angel said, shoulders starting to shake.

I suppressed a shudder.

"What?" the Gasman was outraged.

"They _wanted_ to help the School. They _let_ them put bird genes in us. And they gave us away for money."

That had to be the height of evil in the world. I nothing more than to rid the earth of such scum, only...

Only I was hardly any better than them.

"Did you hear anything about me? Or Max?" I had to ask. I wanted to _know_, even if...

"Your mom thought you died, like Nudge," Angel said, her words sending me to the highest peaks and lowest valleys. "She was a teenager. They don't know who your dad was. But they thought you died."

I heard a snapping sound and realized I'd broken a stick I hadn't known I was holding. For a moment I couldn't hide the pain, couldn't force myself to go numb...

Max cleared her throat, sending my heart into a tailspin. "What about me?" she asked.

I could barely hear Angel's words over my pounding heart. If Angel knew... If she told Max... If Max found out, she'd kill me... I couldn't even imagine how she would react... If she knew that I'd killed her mother...

"I didn't hear anything about you, Max. Nothing. I'm real sorry."

I wasn't.

I licked my dry lips, hating myself, because I knew my secret was safe.

For now.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Angels of death. That's what they would become. With the wide array of powers Tanya had given them, they would be unstoppable.

They would be the world's most effective team of assassins without even knowing it. Tanya sighed at the incredible beauty of her Plan. Down to the last detail, it was perfect, and she would see that it stayed that way.

They'd think they were an team of heroes, fighting and taking lives in the cause of justice. In a way, they would be. They'd be doing exactly what they wholeheartedly believed was right – because Tanya's Plan would define right and wrong. Absolutely. Forever.

She was playing God, and she enjoyed the power it gave her.

Tanya would be a vengeful god, an angry god – no human who had ever crossed her would escape her wrath. Her angels would fly swift and silent, bearing death on their wings. And then Tanya would save the world. Her daughter would save the world. One child at a time, daughter to daughter, generation to generation, she would slowly but surely save the world.

Tanya would transform humans into angels. Mankind would no longer be a little lower than the angels, they would be equal to angels because they would _be_ angels. And then they would become gods.

Tanya looked at the boy on the screen. This was her Michael, her mighty warrior. And he would serve her with all that was in him. Forever and ever.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

I run, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm myself, but I can't; it's utterly hopeless.

I'll die here.

I throw an arm in front of me as I slam into a rock wall, hidden behind the bend. I feel it start to bleed, but a little blood is nothing compared to...

_Oh, no. _

_Not again._

_I can't take this anymore..._

Nudge lies on the ledge just below me, dark blood flowing from her silent mouth. Her arms are unnaturally twisted, and her whole body is cruelly, insanely, mutilated. I press my back against the rocks, unbelieving.

_It's an illusion... not real... not real..._

I see steam rising off her body in the cold of the cave, and I know if I feel her hand it'll still be warm. Waves of nausea attack me, and I would've been sick if I wasn't already. Bright stars dance before my eyes, and I gratefully feel my vision start to narrow...

I whirl and run; it's all I've ever been able to do.

I stagger down the rock ledge, just trying to get away, away, far away...

My foot slips and I tumble down, not even feeling the sharp rocks tearing at my skin. I roll down, a dust cloud rising, obscuring my already fading vision.

I hit something hard, and hear a crack, but I don't feel a thing. My eyes are still wide from seeing that unspeakable horror, that...

I somehow manage to focus straight ahead, and then I _know_ that I've lost my mind..

The Gasman. Two-year old Angel. Together, holding on to each other, terror and agony frozen forever on their white faces.

My fingers tear at the cavern floor, gripping it so hard that I see blood.

I feel nothing; my world is spinning, chaotic, out-of-control...

Yet totally in control.

One sane thought enters my tortured mind: _Tatiana, she's doing this, she's controlling all this..._

Then hysteria sweeps over me once more, and I tear away my gaze and scream, wordlessly begging for death, for an _end_...

Somehow my mind tells me there's water near by, deep water, even though I can't see it. I blindly stumble in a direction – left? right? up? down? All is the same to me – I see a reflection, and my mind manages to associate water with reflections...

I feel a rushing in my ears, an otherworldly pulse through my body, and a buzzing in my skull, but I don't even know what it means. I don't even know if it should mean anything, if anything had any meaning, if all this madness can have a purpose.

A dark, shiny substance begins to emerge on my field of vision, and I dash towards it. _Water... _

I know I need water to live, but I don't want to.

I know water can kill me, and that is what I want.

I see an edge, it's the bank of a river, my crazed mind tells me. I want more than anything to jump in, right now, to feel the icy water entering my lungs and numbing my senses, then stealing my life...

My body stops me one step short, and my eyes lock on the surface of the river.

Confusion explodes in my mind. Because I'm already dead.

* * *

**A/N:** Ahhh! Tanya is so _evil_! Anyway, let me know what you think and when you want this done! Thanks! 


	18. Part 2, The Storm, continued

**Author's Note: **As the poet said... let us go up the hill and scare ourselves tonight! I hope this chapter gives you a chill (though you may have to wait toward the end to get it). Let's see, what else... I have no author's notes posted on my blog this week, and I'll be gone on the weekend so I won't be able to update until Monday at the earliest. Have fun with this chapter and stay safe tonite!

* * *

_**New York, NY**_

_**September 14, 2005**_

I was tired, cranky, and, as always, paranoid. There were too many people here. More people than I'd ever seen in my life, ever _dreamed_ of – all crammed onto this tiny spit of land.

Nudge was in heaven, Iggy was blind and practically deaf now, because of all the noise; the Gasman was having the time of his life, and Angel had perked up considerably. To top it all off, Max was still having headaches and trying to hide it from me. And then there was the obvious fact that we really had no plan other than survival.

And did I mention that we were spending tonight in underground sewer tunnels? Surrounded by tramps, runaways, illegal immigrants, gangsters, violent criminals, _Erasers_, for all I knew?

Not that we haven't seen worse – I'll take an ax murderer over a whitecoat any day – but still, this wasn't the best of situations.

And Max was having serious headaches. Ever since she'd nearly dropped out of the sky, I'd been keeping a close eye on her. She'd only had one major attack since then, but I had no idea how long this would go on – or when the next one would come. With our luck, it'd be in the middle of a fight.

I eyed her as she started rubbing her temples.

"You okay?" I asked, not really expecting to get the truth out of her.

"Yeah," she said, weariness written in every word. "I'll be better tomorrow."

"Go to sleep," I told her. "I'll take the first watch." _And you won't be taking any, tonight,_ I silently added.

What was happening to her?

I hoped it was just stress. But knowing the whitecoats, it could be anything from a migraine to brain cancer. I shuddered at the thought. I lost myself in my thoughts, still doing continuous scans of the area and staying alert for strange noises. So I didn't have any idea of how much time had passed when it happened.

Max jerked into a sitting position, whimpering and clasping her hands to her head. I leapt to her side and immediately wrapped an arm around her, worry creasing my forehead. I had no way to know if she was all right, or if she needed help...

She was hyperventilating now, but hardly getting any air. "Max?" I asked carefully, not wanting to hurt her more.

Tears soaked her face and her jaw was tight. My stomach twisted as I saw a thin line of blood leave her mouth, until I realized that she'd bitten her lip.

I was concentrating solely on Max, so I didn't hear him come up.

"Who's messing with my Mac?" I spun in the direction of the angry voice, protectively positioning myself between him and Max. He was about my age, wearing ragged army fatigues and holding a beat-up PowerBook.

"Who are you?" he demanded again. "What are you doing? You've crashed my whole system, worthless dipstick!"

"What are you talking about?" I said coldly, fully prepared to kick out his kneecaps if he made a false move.

"My system crashed. I've tracked the interference, and it's comin' from _you_. So I'm tellin' you to knock it off – or else!"

Obviously he had no idea how quickly I could knock him out. Suddenly I heard a deep, shuddering breath, and I turned to Max.

"And what's wrong with _her_? She trippin'?" the guy asked.

"She's fine," I snapped, wanting to get back to Max. "We don't know anything about your computer. If you're not brain-dead, you'll get out of here."

Most people would've taken the hint, but no, this one just had to make our lives harder.

"I'm not going nowhere till you quit messing with my Mac. Why don't you get you're girlfriend to a hospital?"

That threw me. Normally I would've blown him off with "Get yourself a PC" or something of the kind, but...

My strange human-avian emotional state almost made me blush. Girlfriend? Yeah, Max was cute, pretty, beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous, even though she was only fourteen, but...

Despite my feelings for her...

Even if I had feelings for her, I quickly corrected myself... I'd killed her mother. How could she ever even tolerate someone like me?

"Who the _h-_ are you?" Max interrupted, trying to sound fierce and only sounding like a child woken from a nightmare.

"None of your beeswax!" Mac guy yelled. "Just quit messing up my motherboard."

"What are you talking about?" Max said hazily.

"This!" the guy exclaimed, and turned his Mac towards us.

Max and I simultaneously gasped.

It was a mishmash of flashing images, drawings, maps, streams of code, silent film clips of people talking...

I quickly called up the map of the Plan in my head and reached out, almost forgetting that I couldn't connect this way to a computer.

But just when I was about to drop the image, a tendril leapt out.

Towards _Max???!!!_

I suddenly saw in my mind's eye exactly what was on the screen. Streams of colour leapt out, sparks crossed gaps and filled in holes, and my mind strained, hungry for more. Then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

"Who are you?" Max demanded.

"I'm the guy who's gonna kick your butt if you don't quit messing with my system," the guy replied.

The computer screen cleared, and large red words scrolled down: _Hello, Max._

I whipped my head around to stare at Max, completely caught off my guard. What was going on?

Max looked just as clueless as I, and together we turned to stare at the computer.

_Welcome to New York._

My mind spun. Nudge was supposed to have power over computers, not Max, certainly not me. I glanced back at the younger girl, who was soundly asleep on the ledge. How could it be her, if she was asleep?

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered to me. "_Did_ you hear it?"

"Hear what?" I asked, startled.

"That voice?" she asked again. She rubbed her temples, and I shook my head. Now what was she talking about?

"What's the deal?" Mac man asked, sounding scared. "Who's Max? How are you doing this?"

"We're not doing anything," I answered, truthfully.

Max gasped as pain re-entered her brain, and the computer screen began flashing. New tendrils exploded from her and I eagerly collected them, almost overwhelmed at the amount of information she was pouring at me...

The screen spewed up garbled images and chaotic designs. Then four words appeared: _Institute for Higher Living._

I felt the strands pulsate in my mind, and Max looked at me. I nodded.

That's where the secrets were kept, eh?

Then that was where we were going.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

The Government ruled all, even though only perhaps five thousand people in the whole world knew it. It ruled through corruption and seduction, in total secrecy. Every nation, every city, was affected by its subtle plan. Every person and every schoolchild was slowly being indoctrinated by its massive education and propaganda programs. Slowly yet surely, it was moving the world towards global governance. Any leaks were silenced immediately.

Tanya worked for the Government, and she had to admit that a unified world would have definite advantages. It would certainly facilitate her work. With borders, prejudices, and ideologies silenced – or at least, suppressed – she could change the earth's people into whatever she wanted. This happened to take the form of an avian-human hybrid, of course.

The Government would not rise out of the shadows in an instant, and not without trouble either. So Tanya's angels would lend them a hand – or a wing – by drastically tilting political scales.

The first step, of course, would need to be the downfall of the West. The United States would be first to go, its precious constitution becoming its own undoing.

In only a few years, the Government would dramatically reveal its recombinant DNA programs – at least, all the ones located in the United States. Upon the inevitable audit, the FBI, CIA and NSA would find that the office of the President had been sanctioning and even sponsoring the research for years. All of this evidence had been painstakingly manufactured and planted by the Government, of course.

Outraged, America's Western neighbors would rise to condemn this unethical practice, effectively compromising America's political influence. At the same time, Government – sponsored 'civil rights' groups such as the ACLU would campaign for mutant rights while others fought against them. The United States would be torn apart from the inside out.

And when the giant fell, the West would crumble. The last bastion of freedom would be forever lost.

Then the Government would fill the vacuum left by the collapse of order. It would fill it with fear and cruel justice. It would take man and rip away his soul, replacing it with a pointless obedience, binding him just as Tanya was binding this boy.

Tanya glanced again at the monitor, and saw that the boy was very close to the end. She couldn't control which end it would be – but it would end in death either way.

He could only choose which kind.

A physical death as the punishment for failure, or a living death as the reward for success.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

My dead face stares up out of the water, black hair floating like an aura of ink. My eyes are like glass, unseeing, unfeeling.

Yet I am here, standing on the riverbank, alive.

Alive, dead, alive, dead.

Which am I?

What am I?

Am I alive?

Yes.

Am I dead?

Yes.

I snatch in a breath, feeling cold air enter my lungs. Air, not water.

But I'm dead, I shouldn't be breathing...

My eyes are still locked on myself, floating there. My eyes... his eyes?... are orbs or darkness and suffering. There is no peace written anywhere.

I shut my eyes, desperate.

I'm alive. I hear my heart pounding, that means I'm alive.

I'm dead, floating in a lake of misery, with wonder and fulfillment staring at me across an impossible gap ...

I clutch my head, moaning. Death does not bring peace? An emptiness? Death brings _more_ suffering? I do not merely cease to exist? _What if there's something else? _

I stumble, falling onto the hard ground. I know now that I can't kill myself, that death is no escape for one such as I. I can't hide from what I've done...

But I can run. As I always have and always shall.

No one can run from death.

Not even a boy with wings.

Just when I think I've escaped, passed it by, avoided it, it comes again.

Staring me in the face, worse than ever before.

Because this time, it's Max.

She's looking at me, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

Dead.

Her beautiful pale skin is as white and cold and lifeless as ivory.

There isn't a mark on her, no sign of violence of poison. The significance isn't lost on me. I know that Max will die someday. Is dead now.

My best friend.

I feel my vision darken and my body sway. The universe rocks and tips, throwing me into a sea of psychedelic colour and agitated lights. Nebulae whirl past strands of chromosomes, a cricket chirps as a star dies in a cosmic explosion. Somewhere, out there in the glutted void, my consciousness begins to unravel, piece by tiny piece.

Slowly, slowly, slowly I feel a change.

I can't take this anymore.

I have to get out.

My brain sends electricity down to my muscles, tensing them and pulling me back into an upright position.

I _won't_ take this anymore.

One by one, I wipe my feelings off my face. It's easier than I'd thought. Then I reach deeper and turn off my emotions. One by one. Sorrow. Sadness. Terror. Rage. Fear. Empathy. Curiosity. Wonder. Horror. Sympathy. Shock. Pain. And, hardest of all...

Love.

All that's left is my relentless drive to _get out_, to _beat the Plan._

_I don't care what it takes. It can have my life. But I'm getting out. At all costs._

My brain suddenly engages my senses, and I realize that I _know_ the way out. That I have known it, all along. _There are only two ways out of here. The first is to succeed. The second is to die._

So I will die.

I run to the river, the river of death, the river my dead body is still floating in, and I dive in.

* * *

**A/N:** Anyone who's read Ted Dekker may know where this is going... hmmm, I may write some notes later this week anyway, I have so much to comment on. This last section is one of my personal favourites. Do you like it?


	19. The Storm is almost over

**Author's Note: **Check out the cover art for _The Tempest_!! Click on my homepage link to see it - I think it's really cool, and I had a ton of fun doing it. I may put up some notes there, too, because I actually have quite a bit to say about this chapter. Sorry I took so long to update. Keep reading - and reviewing :)

_**

* * *

**_

_**St. Patrick's Cathedral**_

_**September 16, 2005**_

"What's that?" Nudge called, pointing.

I looked up briefly, then almost crashed into Max as she slid to a stop. I quickly did a 360; the last thing we needed was to be spotted by the police cruisers. I impatiently turned back to the others, wanting to get moving, when I saw what Nudge had meant.

It was a church, enormous and grey, floating up to the steeple and then almost on into the sky. It looked as if it had grown out of the ground, like a gigantic crystal garden.

"Is it a museum?" Gazzy asked, awe tinging his voice.

"No," Max answered. "It's Saint Patrick's Cathedral. It's a church."

"A church!" Nudge said, so excited she forgot that we were being chased. "I've never been in one. Can we go?"

A church was a place of refuge – a house of prayer, a house of God. Surely we could find...

"Sanctuary," I murmured quietly, remembering the stories, in old books and in the Bible, when people could find shelter and relief within these walls. I wasn't sure how it worked – surely not every church had an altar with four horns, like the Temple of old – but then I remembered that policemen weren't allowed in churches.

Max met my gaze, and her jaw stiffened slightly. We were going in. It was a large place, after all, with so many people it'd be easy to get lost in the crowd. So why not?

We stepped into the cool atmosphere, looking around with wide eyes. We looked like refugees who had never seen a church before – which was the truth, actually.

It was full of people yet almost silent, with only quiet conversations and soothing echoes flowing through the air. There was a slight smell of incense, or something of the like, and sunlight streamed through stained glass to bathe us in light and warmth.

I had never seen anything so beautiful. The arched ceiling almost seemed to float on the pillow of light, and the brilliant pictures on the glass looked like treasures from the past. "Let's go," Max whispered. "Up there."

We walked farther down the marble floor towards a large altar at the front of the church. The altar, symbol of sacrifice and sanctuary. We walked slowly, all clumped together in a group, awed by the sights dazzling our eyes and soothing our souls.

"This place is awesome," the Gasman breathed.

It was awesome. It was good, and it was safe.

"What are those people doing?" Angel whispered, indicating the small group in the pews near the front.

"I think they're praying," Max answered as we drew closer. "Let's pray, too," Angel said.

"Uh..." Max stammered, but followed Angel anyway as she headed towards an empty pew and pulled out a small kneeling bench. We filed in awkwardly behind her, not sure what to do.

We copied Angel's position, folding our hands and bowing our heads. Is this what normal kids did every night before bed? Or every Sunday?

Normal kids could talk to God?

"What are we praying for?" Iggy asked quietly.

"Um – anything you want?" Max said, guessing. It wasn't like she'd ever been to Sunday School as a child.

"We're praying to God, right?" Nudge said.

"I think that's the general idea," Max replied, though she didn't look sure. I wondered if she even believed in God. I mean, here in this place, so full of ... _faith_ ... and _belief_... it was so easy to trust that there was Someone greater, who made this world and directs it...

It's harder when you're trapped in a cage with horrors running through your mind, while your friends are asleep and uncaring beside you. Yet that's where I'd first wondered about God, and decided that He existed.

I closed my eyes, memories filling my mind. It was the day after I'd learned about good and evil, the day after I'd killed for the first time. But I didn't want to think about that part... I felt yucky and dirty and terrible, and I _knew_ I'd done something wrong, that I could never hope to undo or pay for. I knew that there was right and wrong, good and evil. Therefore someone had to define good and evil – and anyone, the only one, who could do that was God.

But could I talk to Him? Would He listen to someone who had done what I had done?

_How_ would I talk to Him?

I licked my dry lips and murmured, barely audible...

"Uh, God? Are you there?"

I didn't really expect a reply, but I sort of wanted to make sure, because I'd never done this praying thing before.

"It's me. Fang. I guess you don't know me, because I'm really not a good person at all..."

I turned my head away from the others, not really knowing how to continue. I knew what I wanted, more than anything in the world, but why would a God like that listen to someone like me?

Frustrated, I let my mind wander, distracting myself by looking at a few stray tendrils floating around...

I idly fingered one and sent a thought down the path to connect it to another. The familiar curve of light and flash of images comforted me, but then...

I gasped and my eyes leapt open, unseeing as I crashed into a wall of light, a supernova, a massive sun that opened up and overwhelmed my brain...

I pulled back, wanting out, not knowing what it was or if I could take it, it was burning my mind and I knew I had to get out, soon...

I slowly let out my breath when I realized it was over. Whatever it was, it had only taken a fraction of a millisecond. Any longer, and I knew I would have died.

What had I seen?

In the pew in front of us, someone was softly reciting: "_God is our refuge and strength..._"

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, trying to steady my heart.

"_... an ever present help in trouble._"

_Well, if anyone's in trouble, it's us,_ I thought ruefully.

"_...Therefore we will not fear..._"

I slowly let out my breath once more, forcing myself to relax. _I will not fear_, my mind echoed automatically.

" _...though the earth give way.._."

I swallowed, hard, unable to imagine the courage that that would take, to _not fear_...

I could never do that, I always had fear of some sort...

"..._and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.._."

I saw that impossible picture in my mind's eye, and somehow it made a few Erasers seem like nothing, nothing at all...

"..._though its waters roar and foam._.."

Something started to change; I don't know what it was. Something was leaving me, and I let it go, not knowing what was happening, what was going to happen, just trusting that somehow it would be all right...

"..._and the mountains quake with their surging_."

I exhaled, feeling something leave, yet strangely feeling as if I had lost nothing. I didn't feel weak; in fact, I felt _stronger_...

_What is this?_ my mind asked. It was not the numbness I was used to, it was full and yet it was nothing, it was tangible but somehow intangible.

_Peace_, something told me.

_This is peace._

_Peace._ I knew I'd never felt it before, not in times of calm, most certainly not in this time of storm.

But I knew that this _was _peace.

And if this was peace, I needed more of it.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya was startled out of her thoughts by a voice.

"Dr. Kharitonova? It's out."

Tanya keyed the radio to reply, re-focusing her eyes on the monitor. "Keep him - "

Her voice dropped off and she blinked. Then she jammed down the 'transmit' button furiously. "He's in the _river_!!!"

"Yes, Doctor, that's why I - "

"What is he doing in the river? He was supposed to get out by the canyon!"

"Should I send a squad to retrieve him?"

Tanya thought fast. If he was in the river, there was still a chance he could be convinced to come out and continue the test. He could still find the canyon and escape that way. But if he _did_ get out by the river, despite all their precautions, he could discover some of the equipment they used, and that would utterly ruin this exercise.

"What's the water temperature?" she asked.

"Two degrees Celsius, Doctor. He should be in shock and going into hypothermia soon."

As if Tanya didn't know that. Even a hybrid like him couldn't stand that cold for too long. She stared incredulously at the monitor. He was _swimming underwater_. In temperatures that should have him gasping for air.

"Cavern temperature?"

"Eighteen degrees Celsius."

Her mind raced. She had to get him out of there, _now_. "Get me Lars."

"Yes, Doctor." Tanya waited impatiently, tapping her fingers on the desk.

"Dr. Kharitonova?"

"Lars, can you project a solid wall of some sort into the river?"

A pause.

"We could try, but we've never tested how the projection would look under the water, how deep it could go before the water absorbs the light rays. It probably wouldn't work."

"Get on it anyway. I need it now, right now, in front of the boy. But don't let him see you!"

She cut the radio connection and searched for another channel.

"Jason, I need your Erasers in the water, now. Tell them to chase the boy out of there. I need him back where he started, hear?"

"Yes, Doct -"

Tanya was already finding another frequency. "Melayna, the boy's trying for the projector cooling pipes. Make sure he does _not_ come out near the mainframe. Rig it with a thousand volts, I don't care, but if he gets a feather anywhere near that area, fry it. Understand?"

"Right. Protect the mainframe..."

Tanya continued to stare at the monitor, eyes wide, heart beating fast. This had been unexpected – she thought she could contain it, but nothing was certain. And how did the boy know that they needed the freezing river to cool their equipment? Everything should've looked life-like to him. Some of it was real, after all...

She stiffened her jaw. Things would be fine – she'd _make_ them fine. The boy would not discover any of their equipment; he'd still believe this was real, he'd still end up tied to the Plan. Secretly, Tanya reveled in the challenge. It had been a long time since someone had managed to out-think her... she let out a silent hiss, remembering the _last_ time... but this time she would win. She would win, and then she would have her revenge.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

A shockwave rocks my body as I hit the icy water. I hadn't realized that it would be so _cold_... as cold as death. The sudden change in temperature knocks the air from my lungs, and I struggle to break the surface.

I remember to keep my eyes closed as I come up, gasping. I know what I'll see, and I know now that I cannot rely on my eyes.

I listen intently, feeling the pull of the freezing water on my body. There it is: the steady yet almost undetectable in and out, in and out, open and close, of a mechanical system.

The system that's controlling this nightmare.

I force myself to swim, knowing that unless I get out soon, I'll go numb and freeze to death. My eyes are still closed, always closed, and I lock my panicked thoughts deep in my mind. I keep telling myself that I this is all just an elaborate test, despite my senses that scream that I've just killed myself.

I _will_ survive.

And I will beat the Plan!

I reach out my hand, slicing it through the frigid water, pulling myself closer, ever closer. At the same time, I enter Tatiana's Plan once more. I go back to the first parts, the parts I'm living out now. Instead of letting the events stream past, I dig in and hold on, trying to slow the flashing images. They're traveling at the speed of electrons, near the speed of light, and I reflexively direct myself into the technical setup...

Tatiana didn't design this test; she left it up to the psychologists, mostly, but she _does_ know about some sort of 3-D projection technology...

It's primitive and sophisticated at the same time, capable of creating realistic visual images almost indistinguishable from the real thing; however, the senses of sound and touch cannot be fooled; the system releases massive amounts of heat and must be stationary in order for the components to be cooled by liquid nitrogen or similar substances...

This river has enough volume and speed to replace that...

My arms are responding more sluggishly now; it's a struggle just to lift one over my head and drop it back into the water, and it's agony to pull it forcefully through the dark fluid. My legs don't want to kick; my lungs beg me to inhale the water instead of the burning air.

My eyes are desperate for a glance of my surroundings, and my mind also needs to know where I am, how far I've come... I squeeze my eyes shut, force my arms and legs to move, and take another breath.

It can't be far now...

Suddenly the river becomes a monster, imprisoning me in its heavy grip, yanking me down, down and around, propelling me fast and faster, swirling and whirling and raging and surging.

I can't breathe.

I don't know where I am.

I dare not open my eyes.

Water batters me, and I feel its cruel fingers tearing at my clothes, wrenching my arms and legs in opposing directions, slamming me with brutal force against walls and ceilings; I can't tell the difference. All I know is that at the end of this ride, I _will_ be alive.

I'm weakening. My straining lungs are empty; I can hardly remember what it felt like, when I stood on the shore and didn't even worry about breathing...

My limbs are limp and unresponsive, knocking against objects and bending under the weight of the water. Bright spots start sparkling in front of my eyes, and I'm confused; I don't remember opening them...

Something angular bashes my face, and as the water spins me, I feel my hand grip a projection of some kind, and then the current tears at my body, trying to dislodge me...

My fingers start to let go, but my sluggish mind suddenly recognizes something and forces them to tighten again. I haul my other hand up to strengthen my grip, and it feels like I'm swimming through stone.

Finally, after an age, both hands are gripping the solid object, and suddenly my brain tells them to twist and push, and it hardly registers as I expend the last of my strength in a last despairing effort at escape.

Something gives way. I feel myself falling, torn away and torn apart as my consciousness thankfully starts to fade...

I'm floating now, I can't feel my body, everything is dark and dim and soft and silent. I don't know what is happening, but I don't even care, all I know is that agony or bliss will come to me in only moments...

I hear a terrible noise, and then the world is jolted as unimaginable pain wracks my body. My mind is slammed back into the present, into _pain_...

My body is contracting violently, retching as water pours from my mouth, my lungs. I gasp at the pain and only manage to swallow more – the air burns my tortured lungs, and I try to stop inhaling, stop the pain, but I can't.

At last, my lungs stop protesting and I carefully try my sodden limbs. Something tells me I'll need to move soon, but I don't even know where...

I open my eyes with a start. I hadn't even realized I'd had them closed still. My vision swims and I fling out a hand to steady myself.

Even the low light of the room sears my eyes. I manage to make out a small square area directly below me, that I'm lying on. It's metal, and there are holes in it – holes that the river is still rushing through. I realize that I'm still being sprayed with icy water, which pours through the opening that deposited me on this strange platform.

I haul myself to my feet, seeing the small, narrow catwalk the maintenance platform connects to. It's all high above the cavern floor, above the waterfall, and I make out a dim light near the end of the catwalk.

My body starts walking, struggling for balance, fighting a violent attack of shivering. I fix my eyes on the path and keep going, ignoring everything else.

I will beat this Plan!

I'm not asleep, yet I feel nothing; I'm awake, yet my mind drifts above my body, detached from my senses.

So I don't even know how I got here, how I'm standing in front of this door, dripping water on a slick linoleum floor, a bright light over my head and death in my eyes.

I turn the doorknob, not even registering surprise and finding it unlocked.

I step in.

A woman stands there. Max's mother.

She's here to weave her spells, to tell me it was all part of a plan, one I can't escape.

I'm here to prove her wrong.

No matter what the cost.


	20. The Storm is ending soon

_**New York Coast**_

_**September 28, 2005**_

"Look who's come to the seashore."

A low, melodic voice mixed with my dreams. I sighed, letting it tumble around with images of subway tunnels, streams of people, clear ocean water, yellow sand, Angel swimming underwater, libraries and searches and quests and goals unfullfilled.

My eyes snapped open and I felt instantly alert, not even knowing what had woken me so suddenly.

I sprang to my feet and into a fighting stance, automatically looking around to Max, expecting to find her back against mine.

She wasn't there. In her place was a fully morphed Eraser, dressed in patent Italian-made clothes, pinning Max to the ground with a well-placed boot.

Iggy leaped up beside me, hand on my shoulder to guide himself. Angel leapt straight into the sky, clutching Celeste, looking around.

Erasers, everywhere. Hundreds upon hundreds of Erasers, surrounding us.

We could never win this fight.

I didn't even know if we were _intended_ to win it, and that was what scared me most of all. Because numbers or odds mean absolutely nothing if the outcome is certain.

"You're so pretty when you're sleeping – and your mouth is shut," Ari whispered to Max. "But what a shame to cut your hair."

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," Max spat back at him.

I stayed perfectly still, not wanting to attract attention, waiting for the right time to make my move.

Ari laughed and reached down to stroke her face. "I like 'em feisty."

My blood boiled and I acted before I had a chance to think. "Get off her!" I yelled, and flung myself at the Eraser.

I landed a hard elbow in his side, but he barely flinched and swing out a fist, which I rapidly ducked, lashing out with a kick to his midsection. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Iggy and Max struggling with Erasers who were seeking to restrain them. Nudge and Gazzy had disappeared, presumably upwards.

I directed an uppercut towards Ari's jaw, but he moved to the side and came at me with a solid roundhouse. I quickly blocked the main part of the blow, but the force still spun me around, so I turned it into a quick backfist, ignoring my aching ribs. Ari snarled and leapt in with his claws, raking me across my face before I could react. I put in a snap kick to his solar plexus, but he hardly felt it, leaning over for another claw rake.

I blocked high and slid under his arm to batter his ribcage. He growled and put out a leg to trip me; I quickly somersaulted over it and came up behind him, kicking his kidney before striking his collarbone. Ari yelped and bared his teeth. He pulled back and spun around to face me, catching me upside the head before I could even blink...

Something was wrong; I was suddenly seeing bright lights, then darkness, then swirling patterns...

I heard a thud; had I just fallen? I couldn't know...

My head exploded into a world of pain as I heard a sharp crack. Was it a gunshot? I didn't know, I was already falling, falling into the black...

I don't know how much time passed before I could finally feel again. I didn't like how I felt – dumped in a food processor with a dozen clubs, or something of the kind -

My vision cleared slightly and I instantly knew I was in danger. I felt something under my hands – _sand_ – and quickly scooped up a handful, flinging it into the red Eraser eyes I knew were in front of me. He staggered back and I was alert enough to see the opening; I hauled myself to my feet and launched a shaky roundhouse at him. Struggling to stay upright, to keep my balance and still be able to _fight_, I didn't even have time to stop it.

Air's elbow connected solidly with my face, and I fell into oblivion.

Unfortunately, I didn't stay there long. Soon I was drifting between reality, dreams, and memory. I knew I wasn't awake because I felt no pain, but I thought I heard some things... a familiar voice... several familiar voices...

"_You have your orders..." _

"_Do you see the incredible beauty of the game?"_

"_Do you see why all this is necessary?"_

"_I don't get it... I want to get _out_ of it..."_

"_That's the purpose of your existence...You've got to be the best, the strongest, the smartest...'_

"_Do not fail."_

"_If you think you're actually running your own life, then maybe you're not as bright as I thought you were..."_

I tried to open my eyes, confused. I didn't know whether I would see Tanya, four years ago... yet today... saying these things to me, or whether I would see someone else saying these things again to Max. I wanted to _know_, but I couldn't, because I didn't even know the Plan anymore...

Then I did know something; Max was speaking to me: "Fang, you have to wake up."

I felt her breath on my ear, the tremble in her voice, and I tried, I truly did.

"He looks really bad," said Gazzy. "He should see a doctor."

A jolt of shock ran through me at the mention of that word, and I tried to open my eyes, if only a little.

"We could carry him, you and me," Iggy said, and I barely felt his hands moving over me, feeling for the extent of my injuries.

"Where to?" Max asked, bitter. "It's not like we can check him into a hospital."

Adrenaline flooded my system, and I knew I could never go into a _hospital_... "No hospi'l," I managed, feeling something wrong with my mouth. I should be able to at least speak correctly...

"Fang!" Max exclaimed. "How bad?" I mentally cataloged my injuries, surprised at how long it took.

"Pre'y bad," I admitted, still disgusted that I couldn't talk properly. I started to turn to the side so I could get whatever it was out of my mouth.

"Don't move!" Max said, concerned, but I did anyway. I managed to spit blood out onto the sand, and then I realized where the pain was coming from...

I raised a hand and spit out a broken tooth. "Tooth," I said, weakly opening my eyes. "Feel like crap." Which was pretty close to the truth.

"You look like a kitty cat," Max said, and I tried to glare at her. Of course, she would still be making jokes when the world collapsed around us...

"Fang," she said suddenly, voice breaking. "Just live, okay? Live and be okay."

_Sure_, I thought. _No prob -_

I blinked, sure my injured head was playing tricks on me.

_What had just happened?_

If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn that Max had just... _kissed_ me.

My strange bird-kid hormones went wild.

"Ow," I said, ever eloquent.

I stared at Max. She was blushing... she really _had_ kissed me. The pain throbbing in my split lip confirmed that – funny, because right now I was hardly feeling any pain, only a strange sensation I couldn't name...

A torrent of feelings overwhelmed me, and I sat up.

_Max couldn't possibly..._

I didn't want to even think the words, but teenage hormones are strange.

_Like me_, I finished subconsciously.

I was more confused than I'd ever been in my life – and over one little kiss, not a diabolical plot to take over the world.

"Man," I said, sitting up, completely unable to say anything intelligent. "This feels pretty bad."

Normally I would never have admitted that, but.. this was far from normal. I rinsed out my mouth with water Angel handed me, and prayed she wasn't reading my mind.

I saw a sly look on her face and immediately scrounged for another subject.

"I'm going to kill Ari," I said.

But I really didn't know what I was going to do.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya was waiting. She'd been waiting for years.

The door opened, and a dripping, bedraggled bird boy stood there, fire in his dark eyes.

"You made it," Tanya said, expressionless, as if she'd been bored with the whole thing.

The boy said nothing, only stared at her. His normally olive skin was white with cold and shock.

"I knew you would," Tanya continued. "Because I _know_ you. Better than you know yourself. I designed you. As a crucial piece of the Plan."

The boy didn't move, didn't even twitch.

"Yes, yes," Tanya said, in an understanding tone. "It's all part of a plan. This test, all the things that happened to you at the School. Every step of your life, every breath has been planned out. You don't do anything, _anything_, that hasn't already been planned by thousands of people."

"You know this is true, but you don't know _why_ it is true. Not yet. You don't know why you exist."

Tanya paused, inwardly annoyed at the lack of reaction in the boy.

She stepped forward. "I'm going to tell you now. Don't ever forget it. I'll only say this once. Do not fail me."

"The citizens of this planet have long been aware of an impending crisis, with potential to annihilate mankind forever. We know that in two billion years, the Sun will explode into a red giant. Life _as we know it_ will utterly cease to exist.

"Fortunately, man has remarkable adaptability – we can survive in the hottest deserts and the coldest glaciers – even in outer space. And we can evolve – did evolve, and are evolving even now.

"But the natural process of evolution is too slow – it might take us more than two billion years to adapt to higher temperatures and lack of water. To say nothing of the other complications that will arise...

"In 1951, a group of scientists from all known fields gathered together, forming the International Coalition for the Preservation of Mankind. In subsequent meetings over the next decade, they concluded that through the use of bioengineering, humanity could be artificially evolved to a state where survival would be possible.

"Over the next few years, technology slowly began to advance to a point where we knew enough about the human body and brain to start planning experiments. With Watson and Crick's discovery of DNA in 1954, though, plans were postponed until we sufficiently understood this blueprint of life.

"Our first experiments were created in 1987, and were utter failures. I joined the Coalition in 1988, and introduced a new concept – to evolve man not by radiation treatments and direct DNA manipulation, but by recombining the DNA of different species with human DNA in an attempt to endow humanity with different qualities that would contribute to survival. Starting with a human-avian hybrid, I mapped out a complete list of combinations that will ultimately lead to a human capable of surviving on a scorched Earth. All the DNA, all the elements _already existed_ – I simply had to find a way of combining them to make what we wanted. Of course, it was no simple task and depends heavily on technology that will be developed in the next two hundred years.

"Fortunately, I'd already done a lot of base work on the human-avian hybrid before I joined the Coalition. So in 1990 I created the first ever human-avian hybrid. By then, the Coalition had been made into the Organization, of which I was joint-head. The whole operation, or Project, had been adopted by the Government.

"After the initial success, I designed four more hybrids to help the first accomplish her mission. The Flock – as you well know."

Tanya searched his face for a response, a sign of recognition, but found nothing.

"Max will save the world," she told him, still watching his face. "There are certain elements of the Government that need ... replacement. There are certain... improvements... that need to be made to the world political and economic system. You will protect Max and make sure she does this. And then, when this is done, you will fulfill your ultimate purpose – you will marry Max and continue the line of avian-human hybrids."

Tanya saw the slightest twitch in his facial muscles, and smiled triumphantly.

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

She's talking, but the words are only background noise, barely impacting my consciousness, as they illuminate different strands of the Plan.

Images from the past flood my mind – a building in a beautiful, frozen city – it's called the Laboratory. I know that already, but now I see years of work progressing at the speed of light – experiments, setbacks, success, a long chain of events leading to a single event.

It's a child – Tatiana's child, Jeb's child.

Max.

Then the thread is snatched away and I'm falling into the future, seeing a toxic Earth, an angry sun, the plans and hopes of a group desperately believing the can prevent catastrophe. Sincerely believing that such catastrophe will indeed come to pass. And believing that nature will not change man enough to survive, trusting, however, that they alone can save mankind.

But there was only one person, ever, who saved mankind.

It's the present now, and she tells me that every step of my life has been planned – but I know this, too. I know there's a plan, and if there is, I will escape it, I will conquer it!

She tells me about herself, now, and I see her story flash in front of my eyes – years spent in study and research, in plotting and worrying. Five years married to Jeb, the man of her dreams. She was still young when she took control of the Organization, young enough to be a mother to Max...

I see something that changed her plan – a dark day, when Max was stolen from her...

I know I should feel something, but I don't. I don't feel anything. And, surprisingly, it doesn't bother me at all. I've committed myself; I can't go back. For better or for worse, I'm doing this.

"And then, when this is done," Tanya's voice goes on, " You will fulfill your ultimate purpose – you will marry Max and continue the line of avian-human hybrids."

The words catch me off guard; this I hadn't seen in her Plan, not at all... but now that I think of it, it seems so obvious...

I let the words bounce off of me, not allowing myself to hold on to anything except this harsh determination.

I must have moved, because Tanya smiles in triumph. "I know what you're thinking – remember, I designed you. I made you _for_ my Max. I know how you feel about her – and believe me, it's not an unusual thing at all. Because you're not a ten-year old boy."

Again, I let her words slide harmlessly off.

"Emotionally, you're twelve years old. I stimulated your emotional development to a level higher than you're supposed to have – because I need you to be there for Max. Since boys mature emotionally at a slower speed than girls, I had to give you this jump ahead so that you could meet her every need. You're her soul mate, her destiny, and you don't even realize it.

"But you're going to have to wait for her. At fourteen, your sixteen-year-old emotions might tell you that you're ready, and you may be, but Max won't. When you're sixteen, though, you'll have the maturity of an eighteen-year-old, and the case may be entirely different."

I ignore her, searching her Plan for weaknesses. But every thread is connected; it's a rock solid plan. I can't hope to find a hole in the walls...

So I delve into the foundation.

And I find my way out.

Her plan rests on four pillars:

She assumes that humanity did, in fact, come to pass through a series of cosmic accidents and mutations.

She assumes that her colleagues and employees will follow her every direction, to the letter.

She assumes that the Government will let her carry out this Plan.

She assumes that she will live to facilitate this Plan.

And she is the only one who knows every detail of the whole Plan.

I can only change one of these factors, tumble one of these pillars.

There's only one way out of the Plan.

I'll have to kill it.

I'll have to kill Max's mother.


	21. PArt 2: The Storm, fin

**Author's Note: **Sorry, I didn't realize it'd been so long since I last updated. This is the end of Part 2 - and the chapter you've all been waiting for. Really.

**WARNING!!! RATED M!!! Just in case...oh, and you absolutely MUST put 'Falling Inside the Black' on repeat when you read the last 2 sections.**

_**

* * *

**_

_**The Institute**_

_**New York, NY**_

_**S**__**eptember 30, 2005**_

Angel screamed, and I clapped my hand over her mouth, heart pounding.

_No... It couldn't be..._

Cages. Rows and rows of cages. None of them were empty.

They were full. Full of _children_.

I swallowed, trying to control the nausea spreading through my body. These kids were just like us – mutants, trapped for life, imprisoned, our very lives made into experiments.

The glass wall opened – Max had done it somehow – and we tiptoed over to the cages. Nightmares greeted us. There were kids there with mutilated faces, damaged bodies, ruined systems, all results of unsteady DNA combinations. Little children...

I saw animals there, too, animals with human features.

"This is pathetic," I whispered, shocked beyond sense. To have stooped to that level...

I knew such monstrosities weren't even mentioned in the original Plan, and I had a feeling that I didn't want to know what the Plan had evolved to.

Max caught my gaze, and tilted her head slightly. I came over to her, slowly, looking around in disbelief.

I saw what Max was looking at and sighed, my heart breaking. It was a child with wings. She was about ten years old...

_I pump my wings and feel power flowing through my veins. I spread my arms out and give a wild shout, a laugh, a cry..._

_So this is joy!!! I scream without words. I roll over, feeling the wind tug at me and seeing the world spin. The air flow over my feathers, the burning of my muscles, the lightness of my body all intoxicate me. My body and soul scream with delight._

Sadness fills my eyes as I recall the one piece of heaven I experienced in my life. It may have been an illusion, but I ached to give that to her, to give her the chance to live the life I never could...

But I couldn't. Because of the mission...

"You know, we can't save them all," I told Max, hating my words, hating the truth of them.

"I'm supposed to save the whole world, remember?" she whispered back, fierce. "Well, I'm gonna start with these guys."

My eyes widened and I began to protest. _We've got a job to do,_ I wanted to say. _If we get outside of the Plan..._

I stopped myself. Because I didn't _know_ whether or not we were in any Plan, right now.

"Start popping latches," Max told Iggy, and looked at me, expectant.

Suddenly I feel an irrational anger, overwhelming frustration.

I knew Max was doing the right thing.

So why didn't I see it that way?

I didn't even know right from wrong anymore. I was the one who was pathetic, not even able to stand up for what's _right_.

I was scared, always scared, of doing something I shouldn't. But what made _them_ right?

I let the rage fill me, a consuming fire burning against evil and injustice. And then I felt something spark, something that I thought had left me completely.

It was hope.

I quietly moved to the nearest cage and wrenched at the lock. I tore it off and helped the frightened child out. They had no right to do this to anyone. No right to keep them prisoner.

I knew I was still their prisoner, too, as long as I held on to their Plans, and my fear of them...

So I let it go.

I defiantly flung open the next cage. _I am a free being, _I yelled in my head, so loud I felt sure they could hear me. And I did want them to. _You can't do this to me anymore! I will not be your slave! Your plans can rot in hell, where they came from! And I do know what I did, and I do know it was wrong, but I will no longer let you bind me with it! _

I pause, fighting back the last of my cowardice.

_And one day,_ I vow, _o__ne day, I'll tell Max._

_Then come what may._

_I'll do it because it's _right

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

Tanya frowned, wondering if perhaps she'd underestimated the boy's condition. She hadn't gotten a single word out of him, and only one slight twitch of a muscle, which might have been the cold more than anything else. She irrationally wondered if he'd frozen to the floor.

But that was impossible; he was still breathing, there was still light in his eyes. Tanya almost blinked; something about those dark eyes had just changed...

Her hands were still by her side, and one subconsciously moved to her back, where she kept her pistol. Tanya knew at once that it was a mistake. Recognition flared in the boy's eyes, and he leaped. Tanya yanked out the pistol with her right hand and brought her left up to steady it, but then her eyes widened and she cursed herself for having made the hybrids so fast.

The boy's fifty-five pound weight slammed into her, and she staggered back a step, aiming the pistol low as she blindly squeezed the trigger.

The boy didn't even flinch as the bullet zipped through his leg, leaving a ragged red hole in its wake.

Tanya's eyes widened and she fired again, but the boy had already managed to move her hands to the side. The shot went wild, and suddenly her supporting leg was swept from under her and she fell. Tanya twisted to the side, hoping to fall nearer to her desk, so that when she got up she could signal the alarm...

Then the boy was on top of her, his dark eyes empty and cold. Tanya gasped as two things hit her at once:

The boy knew the Plan. The whole Plan, in all its gruesome detail. Somehow he knew, and she knew that he knew.

And she might not ever get up again. There was death in those midnight eyes.

Tanya's world spun; she had been such a fool! So arrogant! How could she have done such a thing – ensured that the Plan did not go on without her? She was no immortal! And now, because of her pride, something much larger than herself, than her own revenge, might die...

She growled and struggled, trying to free her arms, determined that Jeb would go first. The boy's grip was as cold and firm as steel. Tanya fought him, desperate. She couldn't die... the Plan couldn't die... she had to see Max again, she needed her baby girl...

Suddenly one of the boy's hands left hers, and she jerked hard to the left, sending them both sprawling. She saw his hand enter his sleeve, and her mind told her that somehow he had a weapon. Tanya scrambled to a crouch and kicked at his arm, trying to break it before he could withdraw his hand... She missed, then threw herself to the ground, going for the gun. If the boy knew the whole Plan, he had to die. He was now a liability, not an asset.

He came after her, and she rolled to the side, trying to avoid him, and reached...

A small, quick foot shot out and kicked away the gun, sending it spinning out the doorway.

Tanya screamed, knowing now that she would soon be beyond hope.

The boy was on top of her once more, and he had a _knife_ in his hand... no, not a knife, a _scalpel_, razor sharp and able to sever bone with a quick slice.

_No... Max... _Tanya thought, despairing. _I have to tell Max... I have to tell her..._

Her vision was turning grey around the edges, but she saw the computer terminal just above her head. With a cry she freed her hand and reached up, fingers searching for the link she needed to find...

The boy's reaction was swift – there was a knife at her throat faster than she could blink. Uncaring, she shot her hand up and yanked out the socket, wrapping her hand tightly around it.

Tanya gasped as the knife drew a thin trail of blood, then tried to keep her breathing shallow as she realized she was still alive...

Helpless, Tanya watched the struggle in the boy's eyes. No emotion showed on his face, but there was a war being fought in his soul...

Tanya closed her eyes, resigned to her fate. She quickly started transmitting, letting the computer take her memories of the last few months, knowing that when it was safe, it would transfer them to the chip in her daughter's arm.

Her body jerked as she felt a burning pain touch her throat, and her eyes opened wide when she realized her life's blood was soaking her clothes...

She had seconds to live.

Her eyes met the boy's – wide and full of horror, a reflection of her own.

In a way, she could understand what he had done – by killing her, he could escape and free his friends. He did this because he thought it would be better for him, for the Flock, for Max...

She saw his features suddenly come to life as his bloody fingers dropped the scalpel. "No..." he whispered, recoiling from the sight, as the full significance of what he'd done came down on him with all its crushing weight.

Tanya gasped, trying to force air past the blood that was filling her lungs.

"Tell..." she tried, hating the croaking sound that came out.

The boy was weeping now, eyes wide and pupils dilated in shock.

"Tell... Max," Tanya tried again, desperate to get out the words.

The boy leaned closer and held back his sobs, trying to listen.

Tanya felt her strength leave her.

But she couldn't die yet; there was one more thing that needed to be done...

Exhausted and dying, she reverted to her native tongue. "Tell Max... tell her... that... I .. love her."

Tanya closed her eyes for the last time, calling up a mental image of her beautiful daughter, even as she released her last breath and started falling... falling... falling...

* * *

_**The Field**_

_**July 20, 2001**_

I stare at the woman in front of me. She's lying on the floor, her throat slit, bleeding to death.

I did this.

I _killed_ her.

Max's _mother_.

_Oh God, oh God, what have I done?_

All the emotions that I locked away break through, flooding me, pounding the humanity back into my body as my eyes widen in indescribable horror.

My fingers open and a blood-stained scalpel clatters to the floor.

"No..." I whisper, terrified, wanting to undo everything I've just done, wanting to go back in time and _throw away_ the knife instead of plunging it down like I had...

My breathing is ragged and my heart is raging, but I don't care. My conscience attacks me, berates me, and I know it's right.

Oh, dear God, I've just killed this woman.

And I can't go back.

Ever.

This stain will never leave my soul; this wound will never heal; I'll never be able to be what I was before; there's no way to undo what I've become.

I feel hot tears streaming down my face, and I weep. For this woman, for what I've _done_...

I want to tell her that I'm sorry, how badly I wish I could take everything back and see her alive once more, even if she was going to kill me. Because I'm entering a life that's worse than death.

"Tell... " she gasps.

She's still alive! I need to get a doctor, maybe there's still some hope, maybe she can still be saved...

"Tell... Max," she tries again, and I see the whiteness of her skin in stark contrast to her bright red blood, the blood on my hands... _her_ blood...

"Tell... Max," she says, so softly I can barely hear her. She's using whitecoat-speak, and I strain to hear and understand. "Tell her... that... I .. love her."

She closes her eyes and exhales long and slow. I watch her face, listening for more...

Nothing comes.

No breath, no pulse, nothing.

She's dead.

Tatiana Kharitonova Batchelder.

Max's mother.

_I_ killed her.

I raise my hands to the sky and scream and scream, trying to drown out the guilt and the dirt that scars my soul, trying to express my grief and sorrow, begging for relief. I wail for forgiveness that I crave, that I need to live, that I know will never come.

I don't even hear the pounding feet coming down the hall or hear the cries of shock. I can't feel the claws digging into my back or the blows to my head, the rough hands hauling me away.

All I feel is a consuming darkness, eating me alive.

I hate what I've become.

And so I gratefully welcome the physical blackness when unconsciousness finally comes.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying to know what you guys think. 


	22. Interlude II

**Author's Note:** Hope all my American readers had a great Thanksgiving! I did - but unfortunately I wasn't able to post during the holiday. Here, then, is an extremely short interlude.

Thank you so much for the reviews - I was really floored by them. To Anonymous: Thank you for reviewing! Wow - if this would make JP cry...wow. High praise; thank you so much, and I hope you continue to enjoy this - though I must say it goes a tad downhill from here.

* * *

_**Interlude**_

You know me now.

This is who I truly am – a killer, a murderer who killed in cold blood, chief of sinners.

And I know you loathe me like I loathe myself.

I've heard stories, though, of people worse than me. Mass murderers, tyrants, terrorists. I've even heard stories of people who changed completely, turned their lives around.

I could still hope.

But what good is hope? My best friend is standing beside me, her hand on my shoulder. She has _faith_ in me.

What good will all that faith ever do her? She doesn't know how badly she's misplaced her trust. She doesn't know this person who she calls her best friend.

My name is Fang and I wear black. There's a reason for both of those, and now you know it.

Soon she will, too.

Because these secrets are burdens I can bear no longer. They've crushed me for too long. It's time to go on.

But I will have to tell her first.

There's no turning back. Just like before. And I'm terrified that this, too, will end with my destruction.

Yet if I don't tell her, I might as well die. I can't give up this last morsel of hope that I keep for myself.

I hope for forgiveness.

I know it's too much to ask.

But I won't be able to come back to life without it.


	23. Part 3: The Aftermath

**Author's Note: **Welcome to Part III, The Aftermath - in which I make a lame attempt at Faxness, introduce a whole ton of rather unnecessary angst, Max and Fang have repeated misunderstandings, this peice morphs into an allegory, and I subtly voice my dissaproval of several themes/elements in the MR series. Oh, and I also kill a canon character and depart from JPs storyline... but that will mostly occur in the oneshot/deleted scene I will post soon, providing I actually get it done. Bet you can't guess the victim... anyway, please keep reading, even if it gets boring from here on. Hey, at least I write pretty decent fight scenes.

_**

* * *

**_

_**New Jersey**_

_**October 1, 2005**_

Max sighed softly and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. It was nighttime, and it was chilly here in the Northeast.

"Why?" she asked, half-demanding, of the boy next to her.

"I'm sorry." He breathed the words. Max knew he didn't know what else to say. There was nothing else to be said, because there was no answer. At least, not here.

"I guess you're right," she said reluctantly. "But - "

Max checked the abandoned structure to make sure the others were all asleep. She swallowed, trying to preserve the last of her pride, but then broke down.

"Why don't they have any records of my parents? I haven't seen my name in a single file. No number that's anywhere near my old ID, no address, not even a picture. Not a single word, for Pete's sake! What have they got against me? I mean, here they want me to save the world and all, and they won't even let me find out about myself. I guess they figure this omniscient Voice in my head can tell me everything I need to know."

Bitterness and sarcasm laden her sentences, but Max couldn't care less. This was the second time her hopes had been dashed like this, and she wasn't one to take it in silence. Unlike the boy next to her.

Silently, he watched her with his dark eyes, listening to her vent.

Max sighed again and rubbed a hand against her aching forehead. "Why?" she asked again, hating the tearful desperation in her voice. She just didn't understand.

"Max..."

She lifted her head off her knees and settled her eyes on Fang's. Her eyebrow quirked up as she saw the emotion in his black eyes. Was this guilt she was seeing?

"It's not _your_ fault," she blurted quickly, bitterly. "It's _theirs_. Everything is."

Fang turned his face away from her and tilted his head down, letting his longish bangs cover his forehead. Max twisted her fingers together, impatient with herself. He knew that, of course, and would face her again when she stopped acting like a two-year-old.

"Would knowing really be better?" he asked, surprising her. Max shot another glance at him. He was still turned away, fiddling with a twig, drawing circles on the dusty floor.

"Of course," Max said without thinking. "Well..."

Max pondered, remembering. _Not knowing is better._ That's what Fang had said to her, in the desert, trying to comfort both of them at the same time. Her for her lack of information on her parents, him for the uncertainties surrounding his mother.

"I guess it could be bad – I mean, look at poor Gazzy and Angel," Max thought out loud. "Sold to the School. Sold! Like animals or something..."

Fang met her gaze and Max saw her outrage and suffering mirrored there.

"But it could be good, too," she continued, wistfully. And not very realistically, she reminded herself, but every girl is allowed to dream...

"I could have a mother and father, a home, a family..."

A soft smile spread across her features at the thought. _Like Ella and Dr. Martinez,_ she said to herself.

"You're right," she said. "I'm not sure if I want to know. But – I think I do. I think I deserve to know."

"I think so, too." Fang's words were barely audible.

Max nodded, suddenly exhausted. He was trying to comfort her, she knew, even though his features were still shrouded in shadow and his back was to her.

"Max - " He turned to her suddenly, and Max's eyes came up, alert, on instinct. She jerked her head up slightly, seeing something strange in his face, lines of tension around his temples and mouth... but she couldn't be sure, in this dim moonlight.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern radiating from his almost nonexistent expression.

She rubbed her forehead one more time, amazed at the headache that had reinstated itself in force. Thankfully it wasn't a massive explosion, but all the same...

"Yeah. Headache. Nothing serious... but I think I'll turn in," Max said.

"Oh." He turned away again, and Max could've sworn that she saw a mix of disappointment and relief in his dark eyes. She blinked once, but his back was turned again, and she knew she must've imagined it.

Max lay down, letting her eyes close slowly. She couldn't let her imagination run away with her – she had enough things to think about. The Voice, the Institute, _Ari_...

Max stifled a groan and felt hot tears burning her eyelids.

She exhaled raggedly, and blocked the thoughts from her tired mind, content to drift into a dreamless sleep. _**

* * *

Airspace over Maryland**_

_**October 2, 2005**_

I'd come so close. I'd _wanted_ to tell her, I'd felt the words burning at the back of my mouth, aching to be released. I _would've_ told her. I don't know why I didn't, what happened.

I retreated into an angry silence for the rest of the night and a good part of the next day. I wasn't angry at Max; I was mad at myself.

I was a coward.

I could face hoards of Erasers without a shiver, but I couldn't find the courage to tell her the truth. No matter how much I wanted to.

Yesterday, at the Institute, I was so full of righteous fire, so ready to just throw myself into the furnace and do the right thing, no matter what the cost. Today, I couldn't even find a shadow of that passion. My resolve had melted in a matter of seconds.

What was wrong with me?

They all looked up to me, the younger ones. Even Iggy did. They'd all seen me fight, they knew I could handle disaster without flinching. One night, I'd overheard Gazzy saying that I wasn't afraid of anything. I knew I was his hero. I'd stayed and become second-in-command after Jeb betrayed them. But what kind of hero was I? Heroes stand up for the truth. They give everything for love. They don't compromise.

I don't want to disappoint the Gasman. I don't want to hide forever, conceal the truth from Max. Because she _did_ want to know, I could tell.

So why couldn't I bring myself to speak the words?

I just _didn't know_.

"Fang! What's that? Behind us, at ten o'clock?" Max's voice entered my awareness.

I quickly went into combat mode and glanced over my shoulder. I frowned and shaded my keen eyes with my hand, straining to make out the shapes. "Too fast for a storm cloud," I mused out loud – that it itself was indicative of my confusion. "Too small, too quiet for choppers. Not birds – too lumpy." I ran a mental comparison with all the aircraft and birds I'd ever seen, and came up without a match.

"I give up," I admitted, looking at Max. "What is it?"

"Trouble," she answered, grim and serious. "Angel! Get out of the way. Guys, heads up! We've got company!"

But what kind of company?

"Flying monkeys?" the Gasman guessed. "Like in _The Wizard of Oz_?"

"No," Max said, and a look of horror and amazement settled on her face. "Worse. _Flying Erasers_."

I'd gotten used to being surprised by now. I didn't even need to remind myself that nothing was going according to Plan anymore.

"Erasers, version 6.5," I said dryly.

"Split up!" Max yelled, already preparing for the inevitable encounter. "Nudge! Gazzy! Nine o'clock! Angel, up top. Move it! Iggy and Fang, flank me from below! Fang, ditch the dog!"

I retracted my wings and dropped below the others, then prepared to release my fuzzy burden.

"Nooo, Fang!" Angel screamed, and I made the mistake of looking at her.

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I shoved the furry miracle into my backpack, silently asking God why on earth he'd made six-year-old blonde girls with wide, beautiful blue eyes.

The Erasers had slowed by the time I pulled the zipper up to the dog's neck. I almost laughed at the sight of the hairy beasts lumbering towards us on awkward, heavy wings. This had to be the School's worst failure ever.

Unfortunately, even wolf hybrids who insult the glory of flight can be dangerous when they carry projectile weapons. I saw three Erasers with Lugers in their hip holsters and dove at them, hoping to make contact before they could draw.

I zipped toward the first, straight for a head-on-collision. At the last minute I twisted until I was perpendicular to the Eraser and extended a knee, dragging it down his side as we sped past each other. I heard ribs grate against my knee, but I didn't have time to look back. I jerked my arms upward to help myself shoot up to the second wolf boy. I clasped my hands together and felt my fists connect solidly with the side of his thigh. He momentarily forgot to flap as a major nerve took the impact, and I twisted and kicked the gun out of its holster.

By this time, the third had managed to draw his pistol, so I dropped rapidly before he could squeeze the trigger. I heard a shot twenty feet above me, and prayed that the rest of the Flock was safe. When I looked up, I saw the Eraser tumbling through the air, thanks to the weapon's recoil. I streamlined my body and pushed my massive wings down. Within the second I was next to him. I cupped my hands slightly and clapped them against his ears, effectively popping his eardrums. He started to fall, so I rolled out of the way.

Max was right by me in that instant, and she immediately dispatched another attacker with a well-placed side kick. I flashed her a thumbs-up before driving them into an Eraser's eyes. I almost winced in sympathy. That had to hurt.

I searched the sky for Angel, and found her staring steadily at an Eraser. "You're going to fall now," she said, and my jaw almost dropped when the Eraser started falling.

Of course, I still had problems of my own. A couple Erasers had decided that I looked like a good snack, so I thought I'd let them come get me. They came in from opposite sides while I hovered. When I could feel their hot breath, I slammed my wings down and shot up, feeling the lower halves of my wingbones contact the tops of their heads as they smashed into each other.

"There ain't no such thing as a free lunch," I chided them as I continued upward, raking an elbow up the torso of the Eraser above me. I rolled into a ball and fell fifteen feet to where Nudge was taking on a group. We were quickly surrounded, but the hairballs were so clumsy it didn't take much to avoid them.

"You... are... a... fridge... with wings," I said, landing a punch with each word. I dropped into a corkscrew to avoid a fist, and momentarily caught a flash out of the corner of my eye.

_Ari?!_

Max was swinging her feet up to his face now, but she stalled as recognition dawned. I kept fighting, but my mind was numb.

Ari had been dead.

"_Fang!_"

I recognized Max's voice and saw a grey blur headed toward me. I rolled on instinct, trying to avoid whatever – or whoever – was coming.

Claws spread fire across my side as I turned, too late, too close...

I clamped my mouth shut and anchored my arm to my throbbing side. I gasped for a breath, sure I was losing air...

I flew almost clumsily over to the others as we regrouped. Ari's contingent did the same – only they looked far worse than we did.

"We'll be back," Ari snarled, baring fangs red with my blood. Then the Erasers flew away jerkily, like wooden puppets.

"Boy, you just can't kill people like you used to," I said, and immediately regretted my words as emotion flashed across Max's face. There is no humor in death.

We hovered there for a few moments, catching our breath, watching them leave. Then Max inhaled deeply, seeming to shake something out of her head, and turned toward us.

I noticed her sharp eyes targeting my arm and said sharply, "I'm fine."

Her eyes narrowed but she seemed to believe me. "Angel? Nudge? Gazzy? Report," she said.

"Leg hurts, but I'm okay," said the Gasman.

"I'm fine," Angel replied. "And so are Total and Celeste."

"I'm okay," said Nudge, sounding exhausted.

"My nose," said Iggy. "But no biggie." I could see blood spattered on his shirt, and he was holding a jacket sleeve to his nose. Hey, it's not like we had handkerchiefs.

I was starting to feel a little dizzy, so I was glad when we started flying. At least now I could get an idea of exactly what damage Ari had done. I let out a muted hiss as my flying motion pulled on my torn side muscles. I dropped the wing on my injured side and flapped with the other, circling with the others and relieving the tension on my muscles.

Minutes later, we were still in the air. I was starting to wonder if I'd make it to DC. I knew we were close to the metropolis, but I had no idea _where_ in that large place we would stop. Scrunching my eyes shut, I forced myself to flap. The pain flared with every wing movement, but there was nothing for it but to press on.

We had to get away from the Erasers, get to a safe haven. I couldn't afford to slow down the Flock, not now...

Above me somewhere, I heard voices, and then a small laugh drifted back on the wind. I almost smiled; I loved hearing that laugh. Max's laugh. Now I knew I couldn't worry her more, not over myself at any rate. I would just... keep... flying...

Dark and bright spots danced around my head, and I frowned slightly. Flies? What were they doing here? I tried to raise one hand and shoo them away, but they kept coming. I wondered if they were somehow attracted to my face, but that would only make sense if there was a light on it...

"What's going on?" Max. She was talking to me, she'd asked me a question..

"Nothing," I said, but the word was strained as I fought to conserve my waning air supply.

"Fang," she started, then her gaze shifted. Or maybe she shifted, or I did, or the sky was getting closer and we were falling. "Your arm!"

I didn't know what she meant; my arm was fine, why should she be worrying about it, when I was fine and it was only that I couldn't breathe, the air just suddenly wasn't there, and without air I can't stay up and keep flying.

Then my eyes closed and I saw nothing.


	24. Part 3, The Aftermath

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long to post. Check out the deleted scene, entitled 'Total Annihilation'.

_**

* * *

**_

_**St. Andrew's Hospital**_

_**October 3, 2005**_

Max lay down on the foam mat and tried to calm her breathing. She had her hands under her head, both for support and to stop them from trembling. She felt her knees shaking and scowled at herself.

_Just breathe, Max,_ advised the Voice in her head.

Her reaction was immediate and furious. _Shut up! _She yelled mentally, her eyelids squeezing closer together with the intensity of the thought. _What right do you have to do this to me? First you scare me to death with some crap about 'respect your enemy' and now you're trying to tell me how to handle all this? Just _leave me alone!

_There are things in life that will never let you be, Max. Your destiny is one of them._

Max clamped her hands over her ears, knowing the gesture was useless but finding some small comfort in it anyway.

Go away _and let me _think, she replied. _Aren't you the one who's always telling me to use my head? Well, then _let_ me._

Max sat up silently and let out a soft sigh. Why was this happening to her? And _what_ was happening to her?

She'd been through hell this last month, and yesterday, just when she thought it might _end_, her best friend had almost died.

Was everything just an elaborate game, like Jeb had suggested? Max immediately brushed away that thought – she knew now that she could never trust anything Jeb said.

_You killed your own brother..._

She felt a pang of guilt, but it lessened as she remembered that she hadn't actually killed him, now, had she? He'd been alive enough yesterday.

Fang almost hadn't.

Max looked over at her friend, lying still on the hospital bed. She slowly got up, moving carefully so Iggy wouldn't hear and wake up.

Standing over the hospital bed, Max closed her eyes, fighting back the emotions of yesterday. It was all in the past; why remember? Fang had survived, and that was all that mattered, for now.

_That's your problem, Max,_ the Voice intoned.

She almost snorted, but remembered her need for silence. _I thought my problem was running from my destiny. Oh, and that whole 'saving the world' business._

_No, Max. You -_

_But of course, I forgot._ Max was angry now. _I've got a Voice in my head! I'd almost forgotten my biggest problem! Everyone else with voices in their minds is sitting in a nice room with padded walls. I'm like, a raving lunatic here!_

_Don't run anymore, Max, _the Voice advised.

_Then tell those idiot wolves to stop chasing us!_ she shot back.

_Deal with your problems. Think through situations. Don't ignore your thoughts and feelings of yesterday. You need to take time to sort through them and figure things out. You need to connect the dots. Use that genetically-enhanced brain of yours! Stop brushing things off like they don't affect you. Start remembering, Max. It's not a bad thing._

_Well, you didn't have a childhood like mine_, Max thought bitterly. _You're just a Voice. How could you have any memories?_

She sank down onto the side of Fang's bed and sat in silence for a few minutes, absent absentmindedly straightening the covers. Pale moonlight filtered into the room through the heavy blinds, casting her Flock in the slightest silvery glow.

Max looked around the room, a soft smile on her lips. They were all sleeping softly, these people she loved so much. Angel and her brother were curled up on the other bed, lost in dreams. Angel hugged Celeste, her small face almost buried in the bear's soft fur. Gazzy had a hand stretched out across the pillow, unconsciously touching his sister's golden curls. Even asleep he was doing his best to watch out for her.

On the floor, Nudge was resting peacefully, her mouth only slightly open – which was an improvement over its normal state, to be sure. She was exhausted from the fight and subsequent turmoil of their day. Iggy lay on the mat nearest the door, prepared to waken instantly if he heard anyone coming. The moonlight highlighted his fair skin like ivory.

Max looked down at the still figure beside her. Fang. The moonlight softened his sharp features, but it didn't erase the lines of pain still embedded there.

She sighed. Even in sleep her friend couldn't escape the pain. Why was he always getting hurt so badly? She knew it was no fault of his own – he was an excellent fighter – but no one was invincible. Max knew that, in a fight, someone was bound to get hurt, but why Fang?

The question answered itself quickly. Because he never hesitated to put himself in the most danger. He looked out for the little ones who couldn't fight as well. Just like she did.

And he looked out for her. Max wasn't sure what to make of this admission; she didn't know whether to be grateful for his protection or insulted because she was the one supposed to be doing the protecting.

She supposed she was grateful. So many times he'd put his life on the line for her and the Flock. It was nothing less than what she herself had done, many times, but if she ever lost him...

Max pushed back the turmoil of yesterday's emotions that were threatening to overtake her. True, he'd almost died, but he'd survived, right? She had realized how much she truly depended on him – how much she cared for him, for all of them. Maybe it was selfish of her, but she knew she couldn't see him die simply because she needed him so much. Whenever she slacked off, he was there to take care of what she didn't.

Looking down at his face, which was several shades paler than normal, Max silently begged him to be okay. She was confused, she didn't know where to go from here. Going with the FBI lady seemed as good a choice as any right now, but Max didn't know what would happen after that. Though she hated to admit it, she knew she was lost. Her only long-term goal was the survival of her family, but she didn't know the best way to even accomplish that.

Then there was the whole problem with her destiny, the Voice, and now Eraser Max.

She needed someone to talk to, and she'd almost lost him.

The fingers of dawn were caressing the horizon before Max realized that the Voice hadn't answered her question.

* * *

_**Anne's House**_

_**Virginia **_

_**October 4, 2005**_

I wanted to go flying. This place was just so ... beautiful. I felt a need to explore like I'd never had before. I supposed that was because before, all I cared about was the safety of an area. But Max had already established this place as secure, so I didn't even have to worry about that anymore. It was actually rather strange. I wanted to fly over these rolling hills, take in the hidden gems of ponds, feel the treetops brush my feathers and revel in the bright flower patches in front of tidy clapboard houses.

This place was a paradise and I had no intention of spoiling it.

But I couldn't go flying because of those annoying gashes in my side. Ari sure knew how to spoil a guy's vacation.

Not that this was a vacation. We were here, as Max said, for some R&R before ... before whatever else we had to do. I guessed that meant we were here until Erasers showed up, the Voice started pestering Max, Anne betrayed us, or the whitecoats came up with some new way to torture us.

With those pleasant thoughts in mind, I forced myself to lie in bed and wait for everyone to fall asleep. If I couldn't explore by daylight, I could at least fly by night. I wasn't sure my ruptured air sacs would support me yet, but I fully intended on finding out. Besides, I had some serious thinking to do, and I always think best when I'm in the air.

The beside clock – a handy feature, it meant I didn't have to wear a watch for the first time in years – read 12:30 when I heard the small tap on the door.

I jerked upward and rolled off the side of the bed, landing on silent feet. The the door cracked open and I saw a streak of dark blonde hair. Max. I relaxed, feeling a little foolish at my paranoid reaction.

"Hey, how ya doing?" she asked, as I lowered myself back onto my bed.

"Tired," I answered, only half-lying. I definitely had had more energy. I intended to re-energize by flying, of course, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"You should be asleep."

"I took a nap this afternoon," I said, irritated, as I gave her a pointed look. Max smirked. She'd won a major battle, forcing me to bed like a toddler in daycare.

I quickly changed the subject, not wanting to see her gloat. "What do you think?"

She plopped down on a bean bag near the bed. "It'll do for now. It's safe, I think. No Erasers in sight. The kids love it."

The corner of my mouth lifted as I recalled their unbounded enthusiasm as we'd explored the place earlier today.

"Iggy's going to love it here – he's almost got the layout memorized, and now he won't have to worry about furniture moving. Nudge wants to learn to ride – can you believe that? - and I practically had to drag her away from the stable before bed. Angel wants to ride the pony and play at being a shepherdess, and Gazzy wants to go swimming and catch an alligator. Not that there are any – I hope - but at least he isn't planning to blow up anything. Yet."

"And you?" I asked quietly.

She gave me a crooked grin. "As long as Iggy cooks, I won't run away."

I couldn't stop the smile that came to my face. Anne would never win an Iron Chef contest. She'd be hard pressed for a blue ribbon at the county fair.

"Yeah," she said, sobering a little. "I think we'll stay here for a while. Sort our lives out a little, get rested up and ready for anything."

"The Voice?" I asked, reading between the lines.

"No," she said. "No."

The last word was almost a sigh.

I almost raised my eyebrows, feeling that there was something else. Probably Ari – she hadn't talked about that, gotten it off her conscience. Well, I couldn't blame her, it wasn't as if I'd ever talked after...

I lowered my eyes, not wanting to meet hers in case I gave anything away.

"How's the side?" Max asked.

"Fine," I said automatically.

"You should get some rest," she said, misinterpreting my downcast eyes.

I didn't reply.

"Well, here's one good thing about a house – we can all sleep in tomorrow!" Max grinned and held out her fist. I tapped it with mine, then she left.

I shook my head slowly, confused. She'd come wanting to talk; I knew her well enough to be certain of the fact. Max wasn't a motormouth like Nudge, but usually if she wanted to talk, she would make herself heard.

So why hadn't she?

Didn't she trust me?

The words came unbidden to my mind before I could block them, and they hurt. _Why should she trust me?_

Frustrated, I flopped back onto the bed. I'd _tried_ to tell her. I'd _wanted_ to. I _do_ want to. I was just waiting for the right moment, that was it. Besides, I couldn't tell her right now – I didn't want to take advantage of my injuries to cause her to sympathize with me.

My injuries. Yeah, they'd been serious, but that hadn't been what worried me most, yesterday.

Yesterday I'd almost lost my chance forever.

My chance to come clean, to tell her.

I could have _died_, then she would have never known. My secrets – Tanya's secrets – would have died with me.

I stood up and walked to the window, hoping no one heard it as I quietly opened it. Cool night air flooded in as the stars twinkled down from above. I climbed out and balanced on the windowsill, twelve feet above the ground.

I needed to get away for a while, to think.

I jumped and unfurled my wings, letting the dark sky claim me.


	25. Part 3 The Aftermath

**A/N: **Sorry, I know it's been forever since I posted. But anyway, hope you all had a great Christmas – and have a Happy New Year!

The song in the first part is 'On My Own' by Barlowgirl. If you want to listen to it – plus the rest of the _Tempest_ soundtrack – there's links on my profile page. And as for the second section ... I hope it makes sense. I wasn't sure what I was thinking when I wrote it...but I kinda like it, and I'm too lazy to rewrite :)

* * *

_**Anne's Home**_

_**October 28, 2005**_

School. Max almost laughed, the notion was so foreign. And yet last night she couldn't even have imagined herself walking through the hallways figuring out locker combinations. Today, she'd done it.

She'd felt like a fish out of water – a paranoid, over-protective and super-suspicious fish out of dangerous waters. Not that school could prove to be any safer than the real world – for the first time, Max was dealing with people, not just bad guys and evil scientists. She'd entered the grey areas, and she wasn't liking it very much.

Most of the kids there hadn't been labeled as 'dangerous', though many were under Max's 'suspicious' category. All of them were under 'just plain weird'. Which made Max wonder if she, the lab-raised mutant flying human could possibly be the strange one. She immediately dismissed the thought with a sarcastic expression of disbelief.

Max levered herself up onto her elbows and stared at the crisp white shirt hanging in 'her' closet. She made a face.

It hadn't been a bad experience – just a frighteningly new and strange one. Despite the fact that it was utterly normal for the rest of the world.

Max let out a breath and rolled over onto her back, contemplating the ceiling light as she let her mind pass over the events of the day.

Everything had been normal – or at least, acceptable – until the teachers had started arriving. They'd stripped her family away from her, one by one, and then they'd taken her. Max had known they were safe, that they could take care of themselves, but she still hadn't been able to escape the iron fist that had gripped her heart.

None of the teachers had looked Eraser-y, but that didn't keep Max from imagining them as whitecoats in disguise. Especially her biology teacher...

The students couldn't have been either whitecoats or Erasers, but they were... ordinary kids?

Max thought happily of her new friend, JJ, and decided not to try to decipher 'normal' behaviour tonight. She had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't have been successful even if she'd tried.

Something changed in the room, and Max looked up. For a second, she tensed, then she realized that it was the silence that was bothering her.

She got up and changed the CD in the player. _This is probably all that most teenagers have to worry about,_ she thought ruefully.

Max plopped down on the bed. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she was enjoying this little – ok, not so little – almost two weeks already! - of rest. The Voice was still bugging her, Eraser Max hadn't left, and they'd gotten nowhere on their parent search, but all things considered, this was better than usual.

_Admit it, Max, _said the Voice. _You're getting used to this._

_Look who's back,_ Max thought, wishing it would just leave her alone.

_That's gratitude for you,_ the Voice intoned dryly.

_Well, fine, have it your way,_ Max retorted mentally. _Thanks for invading my brain, causing my painful headaches, settling down in MY head, and handing out cryptic fortune-cookies every day._

The Voice didn't reply, but Max found her eye drawn to the stack of new textbooks lying on her desk. _Maybe I'd better not scare off my homework helper,_ she thought. _It could come in handy..._

_I am not your personal tutor, Max, _the Voice interrupted.

Max scowled.

_I help you with your studies because you have greater matters to attend to._

_Like what, my hair? _She shot back.

The Voice ignored her. _Concentrate, Max. Focus. You have a mission in life. Success is the only option._

_My mission is to take care of my Flock,_ Max replied angrily. _They're safe here, for now. Just show me otherwise!_

_Safety isn't everything. Just look at yourselves! You're safe in this house, but what's it doing to you? _The Voice almost sounded angry.

_It's giving us a chance to live like we should've been able to all these years. We're learning what it's like to be regular kids. We're relaxing and letting ourselves heal and get ready for what's next. _Max wasn't sure if this was true, but it didn't stop her from thinking it.

_You're sliding backwards. You've stayed too long. You're all dropping your guards. You're not ready for anything. None of you. And you aren't even taking the time to deal with the important things. With each other, with your destinies, with all the problems you've been _running_ from!_

_Ok, ok, so let's say you're right! _Max thought angrily, swallowing her pride for a moment. _Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this, what the whitecoats are planning. While you're at it, tell me when the next Eraser attack is coming and how to keep from throwing up in science lab!_

The Voice turned cool and distant. _This isn't school, Max. I won't hand these things out on a platter. This is life. You'll have to face it one day, so I suggest you stop trying to avoid it and start trying to deal with it._

_You are so much _help, Max thought violently.

There was no answer.

Max sighed and let her head drop into her hands. She tried to clear her mind, but it didn't come easily. She decided she needed to talk to Fang. After all, she still hadn't told him about Eraser Max... and it would only be natural to talk tonight, after the first day of school... and she needed to see if he'd gotten anywhere on the coded pages...

_I can't believe that I'm here in this place again. How did I manage to mess up one more time?_

Max looked up, wondering in a moment of confusion if the Voice had returned, but then realized that this had been spoken – sung – by a distinctly female voice.

_This pattern seems to be the story of my life. Should've learned learned this lesson by the thousandth time._

The CD player. Max scowled. Just what she needed, a psychic music machine. Next thing she knew it'd tell her to save the world.

_'Cuz I promised myself that I wouldn't fall, but here I've fallen, I guess I'm not as strong as I thought..._

Max straightened with a jerk. _So not true! _her mind rebelled. Max was strong; she knew she was strong. She could deal with anything those whitecoats threw at her. She marched over to the stereo.

_All my right answers fail me; I can't seem to make it on my own._

Angry, Max considered throwing something at the machine, but remembered it wasn't hers, so she violently punched the power button.

She returned to the bed, seething. If anyone could make it, it would be her. She'd kept the Flock together and safe for years – Fang had said so, and he rarely said things he didn't mean.

_Are you sure about that?_ the Voice probed.

Max let out a stifled shriek of frustration. _Leave Fang out of this!_ she cried.

_It looks like you're doing just that_, the Voice commented.

Max grabbed the pillow and jammed it over her head. She counted to ten, then took a deep breath. She was still as angry as a caged bear.

Max lay there, trembling with rage. Finally she spat out a reply to the Voice.

_I'm not leaving him out of anything. I just don't want to worry him, he's got enough of that to do already. I can _deal_ with this _myself!

_You do that, Max,_ the Voice deadpanned.

In a blinding fit of fury, Max ran over to the window, jerked it open, and flung herself out.

* * *

**October 29, 2005**

_Here I am again. I've never been here before, yet here I am – again._

_There's so many _people.

_It's a swirling vortex of colour and noise. They walk, they talk, they think, they breathe. They're all different, they're all the same. Similar clothes hide different faces._

_And I'm lost._

_Even though we bird kids have a strong sense of direction, an inborn compass if you will, mine just isn't working. Like it hasn't worked since..._

_I'm lost and at the same time I'm hiding, so I can't cry out for someone to find me and rescue me. I want to be noticed, but I want to be passed by, to be just another face in the crowd..._

_The faces are familiar, as are the voices, but they are the features of strangers. My family is not here._

"_Hi, Nick! How are ya?"_

_My heart nearly stops inside my chest as my throat constricts. _She recognized me, she pointed me out, she _knows_ me...

_I blink, not knowing what to do, wanting to hide yet wanting to break out of this circle of death._

_She has red hair and green eyes, with freckles on her face. She's wearing a white shirt and plaid skirt; she's a student in my class, and I've met her. She has a name maybe, and a family and a mind uniquely hers, but I can't see it. _

_All I see is the uniform, the fear. Because they're all the same – the students, my fears, this school, my life.._

_I lived in the School and I feared it; now I my fears live in this school and it lives in me..._

_Time shakes the kaleidoscope and the pictures change. It's a boy now, he's shorter than me. He smiles. "Nick, man, you coming to class or staying there all day?"_

_His face is kind and something tells me he's friendly and can help me..._

_What? What am I thinking? I hardly know him, and he's one of _them.

_He's Josh and he's in my class and I talked to him for half an hour yesterday, the longest I've ever talked to anyone outside my family, he's just another student walking around in the halls of this school._

_He's my fear of people personified and he has a grip on my heart and I can't escape him, he's just another of my fears whirling around in the whirlwind of my mind..._

_I walk through the school, my mind, meeting people, greeting fears and hiding from both of them._

"_Nick?" The boy, Josh, looks back at me. I see his pleasant face etched with puzzled lines as the world spins past him and me, out of focus and all mashed together._

"_Nick..."_

_It's utterly clear for a moment; it's just him and me, my soul is somehow bared to him and he sees all in this stunning moment cut out of crystal._

"_Are you lost?" he asks me, deep brown eyes meeting mine._

_Am I lost? Yes, I am. Yes, Joshua, I am lost, and this is the only truth in this strange double reality I find myself in. I am seeing clearly yet I am still hopelessly lost. The world races out of control as colors meld and truths emerge._

"_I'll show you the way."_

"_I'll show you the way."_

_I see._

_I know._

_I've known all along, I've seen all along, I've just never connected the two, knowing and seeing._

_I see the school of my mind, all the people walking around, all the fears manifesting. It's noisy and crowded and stuffy as everyone vies for his own space. _

_I imagine it empty._

_Without the people._

_Without the fear._

_The fear, conquered._

_My mind empty._

_Or is it empty?_

_I see the tiles on the hallway floor, the green metal lockers with papers pasted to their doors, the lights overhead and the doors set in either side of the hall._

_None of these I could have seen with the people in the way._

_What will my mind look like without the fear?_

_When I lose my fear, will I lose myself?_

_Or will I find myself?_

"_I'll show you the way."_

_ What do I look like?_

_I don't know._

_And that is what I fear the most._

_I fear what I do not know._

_I've jumped off the cliff, I'm in free fall, and I don't know whether or not I'll land safely. I'm afraid to land._

_This is why I am doing nothing._

_This is why I am paralyzed._


	26. Part 3: The Aftermath, cont'd

**A/N:** I don't like this chapter... oh well. Hope you can at least tolerate it.

* * *

**_November 3, 2005_**

Max sat in her English class and stared at her textbook. Beneath the desk, her fingers relentlessly twisted a piece of paper. A single look from her eyes could've ignited the stuff.

A single picture played over and over in her mind.

Fang kissing that red-haired girl.

Max wrenched the paper violently, wishing it was Fang's neck.

_You do have feelings for him_, the Voice said, smug.

Max wished she could've screamed out loud._ Oh, yes, I have feelings for him_, she thought viciously. _Right now I'd feel quite happy if Ari ripped his throat out._

After a moment's thought, she amended that. _Well, not quite. But I would like it if he slipped in the lunch line and landed in a hot pot of spaghetti sauce._

_And if you have anything to say, Voice,_ she thought, _I'll let you know exactly what you can do with your so-called 'advice'._

Max was confused and totally aware of the fact. She wanted to kill Fang, she wanted to cry, she wanted to tear out the girl's hair, and she wanted to slam her own head into a tree because she was certain she didn't like Fang that way. She wanted to attribute all of this to mutant hormones, but maybe there was some truth in what the Voice said...

_Wow, you're far gone if you're getting your counseling from that alley,_ she told herself scornfully. Since when did Maximum Ride listen to her resident Jedi wannabe?

Max made a pathetic attempt to read the printed words in front of her. She gave it up about two seconds later, and returned to her rant. If there was one thing she could do well, it was ranting.

_Fang's like my brother. I've known him as long as I can remember. How should he be any different from Iggy? Would I freak out if I saw Iggy kissing a girl?_

_Probably_, she answered darkly. _Unless I approved of the girl..._

Max thought of blonde-haired Tess, a nice girl in one of her classes whom she suspected of having a thing for Iggy. She tried for an instant to imagine her kissing Iggy, then dropped the image in revulsion.

It was just wrong.

Like Fang kissing that other girl was wrong.

_This is the twenty-first century, Max,_ she told herself. _Guys and girls date when they're fourteen or fifteen or even thirteen. People have to grow up someday..._

She didn't sound very convincing, even to herself.

_There's just no time for stuff like that, she thought. Maybe, one day, when all the Erasers and whitecoats are gone forever, and no one has a meltdown when they see flying kids..._

In other words, never.

Max scowled. Didn't seem fair.

So was she just jealous because Fang had found something she herself could never have? Or was she mad that she couldn't provide her Flock with everything they needed and wanted? Was she being an over-protective older sister?

_Or do you have -_

Max cut the Voice off before it could add the obvious words. _Leave me alone! I'm trying to figure stuff out here, and if I need help, I won't as you for it!_

_Be logical, Max. Put all the possibilities on the table._

_Fine. I'll do it. Then you leave me alone to go through them by myself!_ Max sighed. Win some, lose some. Besides, it was better than studying grammar.

Yes, she was sort of jealous that Fang had found someone who liked him so much. Just a little... for a moment Max wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend. Someone who loved her, wings and all, and thought she was cute...

She hadn't failed the Flock, she was sure of it. Fang had said so...

Max felt anger flare again as she thought of him. Here she was, treating his words as if they were from God, and he went off the next day to kiss a complete stranger. What was his problem?

She sighed and decided that raging, though therapeutic, wouldn't do much good in the long run. No, she hadn't failed the Flock.

She was over-protective by nature. It was her business to make sure that Lissa wasn't, say, some new form of Eraser. Or to make sure that she wasn't planning on using Fang to climb the social ladder or whatever girls used guys for. And she didn't want Fang to be heartbroken when they left, which she knew they would.

Not that Stone-Faced Fang had a heart to be broken...

_Ok, that was a little cruel,_ Max admitted. _Just because he doesn't show his feelings doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Although if he falls for Miss Air Head over there, I'll seriously start doubting his mental capacity._

Max didn't want to tackle the last question, but she had a feeling that it would end up proving the Voice wrong, and she did enjoy it when that happened. With a sigh, she let the whole thought come out.

_Do I have feelings for him?_

She paused for a moment. _Well, duh yeah, he's like my brother and best friend, of course I feel for him! I'd be a monster if I didn't._

Max could imagine the Voice itching to tell her not to avoid the issue.

_Fine. I had a crush on him last year. I admit it. Happy? But that was then, before this crazy mess with Jeb and Ari and the School. I got over it. I was a thirteen-year-old mutant, growing up alone with two guys of the same age. It's not like there was anyone else I could've gotten a crush on, anyway._

_But it's over. Finito._

_Tell the truth, Max,_ the Voice nagged.

_I thought you were going to leave me alone,_ she replied, scowling. There was no answer.

_Fine. The truth. The truth is..._

_I don't know. I haven't figured him out yet. I haven't figured me out yet._ Max felt the raw note of utter honesty in her thoughts.

_Would you like to know the truth, Max?_ the Voice whispered.

_Uhhhh, sure_, she thought cautiously.

_Oh, no,_ said the Voice, reading her thoughts. _I'm not just going to tell you. Finding the truth is never easy. And it'll hurt when you find out. It will change you. Do you really want to know the truth, Max?_

Max swallowed nervously. Because she didn't even know the answer to that simple question.

* * *

_**Earlier that Day**_

I stepped back from her and swallowed, hard. I was short of breath, and my mind seemed to have completely left my body. Only my physical senses still worked.

I could smell her perfume, I could taste her lips, which only a second ago had been on mine. I could feel her hands on my chest, feel the warmth of her body that was so close to mine. My hands were still on her shoulders; I'd just kissed her.

Wow.

I remembered the instant her lips touched mine. It was like a circuit had shorted out; I'd been struck by lightning, utterly floored.

If this was love, I needed more of it...

Lissa loved me? Was it possible?

I studied the pretty face in front of me, still to close for my normal six-feet-of-personal-space rule, but somehow I didn't mind. I didn't think I'd even mind if she kissed me again... in fact, I thought that I would like it very much.

She giggled nervously, eyes still locked on my face. I swallowed again, and slowly start moving sideways. My brain made a feeble connection with my body; I knew my senses had just been overloaded; I needed to go somewhere and sort things out.

"Um," I said, master of words that I was. "Uh, doesn't, doesn't the next period start in a few minutes?"

Her hypnotic gaze finally broke contact with my eyes as she searched the wall for a clock. Her smile wilted. "Yeah, you're right," she said, and turned her eyes on me.

I blinked and quickly sought for another object to look at. Lissa seemed to have her own version of Bambi eyes - or was it just a girl thing? I could swear she'd just told me how sad she was that this had to end, yet how much she was looking forward to doing it again...

My brain leapt back into my awareness and I almost found myself gagging. Next time? Kiss her again?

I knew my sixteen-year-old hormones were liking the idea, but the logical part of myself... I didn't know what to think.

"I have English next," I mumbled, barely making out the words, trying to think of a way to get out of the room as quickly as possible. And then finding a basement to hide in or a roof to take off of would be nice...

"Well, uh, see ya," I continued, and she giggled and fluttered her eyelashes. I almost stopped, amazed at what a single movement from her could do to me.

I suppose I should've held the door open for her, but I just bolted. I knew if I stayed, I'd end up kissing her again, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that.

I needed to get away and sort things out - girls, the School, the new Plan, Max, girls, love...

I'd never been so confused in my life before.


	27. Part III: The Aftermath

**Author's Note: **Sorry the update took so long - I took a week's break from fanfiction to figure out what I'm going to do next. And don't worry, posting the rest of this story is top on the list. This is short, but enjoy it anyway!

* * *

**_Airspace over Virginia_**

**_November 28, 2005

* * *

_**

Run. Fight. Fly. Pain, confusion, betrayal.

Fly.

Max strained her wings as she looked over her shoulder, counting heads. A dark head to her left: Fang. Two small blondes, behind her: Gazzy and Angel. Dark, curly hair to her right: Nudge. She looked around for the familiar light-blond lanky boy, then remembered with a pang.

Iggy's with his family now.

It hurt to think so; for Max, family meant the Flock. It was hard to imagine any other group of people that could fit the definition of that word as well as they did.

But there was no time to think about that now. They had to leave, quickly, before any cameras or Erasers or whitecoats could find them and bring them down.

"Where to now?" Gazzy asked, and beneath his voice Max could hear the trepidation as he once more considered the prospect of another sudden move.

"We need to go back to Anne's," Angel said.

"Yeah, just real quick, to get some stuff," Nudge chimed in.

Well, Max hated to contradict them, but...

"Actually," she said, "I hid our packs in the bat cave a few days ago. Just in case something like this happened." And because Fang had started hinting that he didn't trust the FBI agent. "And I didn't forget to lift one of these," she said, feeling slightly like a thief as she waved a stolen credit card. "She'll never miss it."

"Great," said the Gasman. "That was really smart, Max."

Max wished he hadn't said that. When an eight-year-old started thinking that credit card theft was smart, you knew you were doing a lousy job of parenting.

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Max said anyway, unable to resist the pun. "Let's get out of here."

_I told you so_, she thought, then stopped, wondering. _How did Fang know? Did he know this would happen? Or did he only suspect..._

She'd always been able to trust his judgment when it came to people; he had always been more paranoid than her in that particular area. That could be his special talent, she mused, then almost laughed at how ironic that would be. The most anti-social person I know blessed with the ability to read people. Wouldn't that just take the cake?

Max turned her thoughts back to the more pressing issues at hand; they needed a destination fast. Somewhere secluded, with room to think and hide and a place to start some serious code-breaking.

"Yo."

A voice from behind startled Max, and she spun, cursing her lack of awareness. She curled a hand into a fist and was about to lash out when...

"Oh my gosh! Iggy!"

She stared for a moment, looking him over to make sure that he was all right, that he was really there √ and he was, every inch of his wonderful blind self, wings and all.

"Iggy! Iggy!" The flock pressed around their brother with happy shouts of greeting.

Max smiled. The Flock was complete. For now, at least, she was whole again.

* * *

_**En Route to Florida **_

_**November 28, 2005**_

This was more like it. Not that I appreciated being chased halfway across the country by mad wolf-avian-human hybrids - it just seemed more normal.

Running was something I could handle.

Waiting - well, let's just say I'm not so good with that.

"Hey man, what's up?" Iggy's called none too quietly as he flew in closer. I hid a smile; I was so glad he was back, it was almost worth losing...

Losing what we had? We'd never had anything at Anne's, not really. We'd had school - and who really wanted that? - some people who'd called themselves our friends for a while - but now they were gone and we were still here - and an illusion of peace.

We hadn't had anything but a break.

"Nothing much," I answered Iggy, but my tone let him know that I was happy he was back.

"Why'd you all run from Anne's? She turn bad, or what? I heard a big ruckus at the school, man, was that Gazzy testing the ... uh..." his voice trailed off and he made a poor attempt to imitate a coughing fit.

"We think she was in cahoots with Jeb," I explained. That is, I thought she was. Last night I'd seen something from her for the first time and I hadn't liked it. All it was was a cage ... but that was enough. I'd warned Max that night that we'd better be ready to move. I don't think she wanted to listen - I understood, we all wanted our vacation to last - and though she hadn't agreed to move out right then, she'd said we would be ready to go at a moment's notice. Meaning whenever the Erasers showed up; I knew her too well. The world could be crashing down on her head but she wouldn't budge until she actually felt the pieces and made sure they were real.

Sometimes I wished she were the one who could see plans - a little foresight couldn't hurt her. And a little less couldn't hurt me...

If only Max would listen!

I know it's going to be hard for me to talk, but I've been trying so hard, and she seems almost if she'd rather not hear me.

What will it take until we can see eye-to-eye?


	28. Part III: The Aftermath, cont'd

**Author's Note: **Well, this installment comes to you today because class was cancelled! Enjoy. It's getting close to the end. And please let me know what you think!

* * *

**_The Beach _**

**_Florida _**

**_December 21, 2005_**

Blood, red blood, her blood, wet the golden sand. Max stared blankly at the gathering pool as pain shot up her arm. She hardly felt it; all she wanted was out - she wanted the chip out, she wanted out of her destiny, she wanted to be OUT of this mess.

A few hours ago she was happy; Max doesn't know what brought this on and she doesn't really want to find out, because she thought she just might be going mad because now she knew that she didn't want to face reality, hadn't, in fact, for the last few weeks.

But now Max had finally reached her breaking point, and there was no one there to put her back together again.

Except maybe one.

* * *

_**The Beach **_

_**Florida**_

_**December 21, 2005**_

It was foggy and grey that day, but with my curse of raptor vision I could see everything clearly, and it, like all else, was burned into my memory forever.

Max kneeling in the grey-brown sand, red blood covering her arm. A white, gritty shell clutched in her right hand, which was sawing at her flesh.

I've never flown faster before.

I was so afraid that I would lose her. I've always assumed that I would die first, that I would be spared the grief of her passing, but in that moment I realized that she could just as easily be the one to go first. And to go by her own hand...

While it was in my power, I would do all that I could to prevent such an atrocity.

I dove fast, and when I landed my knees buckled with the force of impact; but I was already running. I didn't know what was going on with Max - but what I saw told me enough.

She wanted it to end.

My heart broke. How could she not see that all the time I was there for her? That I would die for her? That I would do anything...

_Anything_...

So was this why, then? She didn't know.

Didn't know me, because I'd never revealed myself to her, because I was afraid of my secrets.

But I am not my secrets. Not anymore.

I rushed down the beach, desperate to take her in my arms, desperate to hold her.

It was time she knew.

* * *

**_December 21, 2005_**

Ordinarily, she would have stared at him defiantly, daring him to tell her that she was wrong somehow, that she had a problem she couldn't fix. That she wasn't all-powerful. But tonight, she was silent.

So many things had become clear on the beach. She knew that she needed to listen. If she was to save the world, lead the Flock, or even call this boy her friend, she needed to listen to someone besides herself. It was a strange sensation - she'd always been the leader, the one everyone, herself included, ran to when things got tough. She was her god.

Tonight, things would change.

For the first time in her life, Max was ready to listen.

* * *

_**December 21, 2005**_

I was so nervous my mouth was dry. I was surprised that I'd gotten this far - Max and I were alone and out of range of sharp-eared Iggy. The rest of the Flock slept peacefully, but for me, peace was a long way off.

Or perhaps it was only minutes away.

I looked into her eyes, dark in the night time. If I was going to do this, I would do it right.

"Max..." I said softly, not quite sure how to start.

She looked at me, and for a moment I was taken aback. Her expression was open and expectant √ not the tight, defensive features I'd expected of her. For all she knew I was going to lecture her about cutting. Max didn't speak, but I knew that she was ready.

"I ... at the beach today, I..." I stumbled, disgusted with myself. I stopped and took a breath, slowly releasing it.

"You scared me, so bad," I finished lamely, repeating my words of hours ago.

She started to open her mouth, perhaps to apologize, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

"Max, please ... this isn't what you think. I'm not going to tell you what to do. I just want to tell you... a story."

Her eyebrows quirked up, and an almost disbelieving glimmer appeared in her eye. I could tell she was biting back a sarcastic comment.

"It's important," I said, ever eloquent. "Because... well, it's about... me. And the School and what the whitecoats are - were - planning to do, and how to save the world... and, Max, it's about your mother."

'My mother?" The words came out as a yelp; suddenly I had her undivided attention.

"There's a reason I never told you before, Max, but please, please wait until I've told you everything. Promise me that," I said, words rushing out. I looked hard at her. "Promise." My voice cracked on the word.

Mutely, she nodded, hazel eyes wide.

And so I told her. I've never talked so long in my life before. I started with the School - where everything started - and I told her everything. About my memory, my ability to see plans, the emotional 'enhancements', the Plan, my escape, Tanya, Jeb, the Field...

I don't recall using actual words; the memories surfaced and played, rapidly or slowly, and I simply told her what I saw, what I remembered. I don't know how long I took, only that the moon had set when I at long last finished my tale.

The only noise in the night were cricket-songs as we sat there, at last in silence. I couldn't meet her eyes, and not only because my own were blurred with tears. I had just bared my soul to her. What she did with it would mean life or death for me. Because if I was beyond redemption, I would be as good as dead.


	29. Part 3: The Aftermath, almost done

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been so long. I'm trying! Oh well... only about two more chapters after this. Anyways - in this chapter, I prove that I really can't write Faxness, but I have metephor and allegory down cold.

* * *

**_December 21, 2005_**

At first they were just words, spilling slowly from the mouth of her friend. Max listened, trying to clamp down on rising memories of their early days a the school. But then he said the name.

Tatiana Kharitonova. Tatiana Kharitonova Batchelder.

This was her mother's name! And Jeb was Max's father??

Among the swirl of confusion that engulfed her mind, she suddenly saw a face. It was finely boned with hazel eyes like her own, framed by efficiently cut blonde locks. Max gasped; surely she had been too young to remember her mother; yet her mind and heart told her that this was she.

Then in a whirlwind rush Tatiana's story unfolded.

Max saw her grow up in Soviet Russia, daughter of an important government scientist - in sixteen years, two seconds. She felt Tanya's joy as her father managed to get her a position as a research assistant to a colleague who specialized in cell biology. Tanya was fascinated with life; Max could feel the almost ravenous desire that overcame her when she looked through the microscope into the very core of living things.

And then she saw the world Tanya lived in - a world of hunger and oppression, death and secrets. Her mother had looked at people and felt a desperation - surely, surely, not everyone could be as grasping and greedy as the government was - surely there was someone good! Max became a part of Tanya's search; she almost willed her mother to find the one... but there was none.

Despairing, Max - no, Tanya - turned to the tools of science, determined to do something, to make a person who was good... who could right the wrongs she lived with every day. Tanya threw herself into her work; she studied obsessively, and before her twentieth birthday she'd gotten a job in the Soviet genetics program.

Then one day not a year later, the person she'd never hoped to find stepped into the lab. He was tall and handsome, a charming young man who shared her vision and captured her heart. He offered love and a life that she'd always wanted - a life where she could pursue her dreams without the restrictions the Soviet government piled on her and the prejudice because of her age. When he asked her to marry him, Tanya felt that she could never possibly be happier. Max felt the love Tanya and Jeb shared, and she ached for them because she knew who Jeb really was.

Tanya had eloped with the American scientist and taken a position in the rogue Government's hybridization program. Together, she and Jeb had shaped the project into something entirely and radiclly different.

Forget nuclear missiles and biological warfare - it would be genetic engineering that would bring humanity to its knees. And once it was down, Tanya would raise it up to heights where angels flew.

Now Max heard Fang's voice again, and he was telling her what Tanya and Jeb had done when they'd created her; her blood boiled, and she felt sick; yet at the same time, she felt an immense pleasure in the results of so many years of her hard work...

She saw Fang now, as a little boy with dark fuzzy wings, barely feathered. She saw the rest of the Flock emerge slowly, but something was strange, something was different... When she saw Iggy, she thought of effort that had gone into splicing his genes with a homing pigeon's; when she looked at the Gasman, she saw a failure... a waste of time, a brilliant idea gone bad.

Max wondered what had happened; she was intimately familiar with each Flock member, but for some reason she no longer loved them...

Then Fang began telling his story, the story of that night in the desert when he had run for freedom. And then Max understood; somehow she was experience what her mother had - whether some magic of Fang's speech or the malevolence of the whitecoats, she did not know.

So Max was Tanya, for a brief while that night, and she shed bitter tears for the outrage her friend had suffered at her mother's hands, at the evil Tanya had been preparing to release on the world under the guise of love for her.

But suddenly she was lying on her back, and the blood was pounding in her skull as shock flowed through her veins; she was struggling, she was fighting, she was finally realizing...

Max jerked her eyes open and stared wildly, searching her hands for the bloods she could feel there, pawing at her throat to make sure it was whole and the cut had only been in her imagination, that it hadn't happened; that she hadn't just died and her best friend had killed her...

Forcing her hand down to her side, Max stared as understanding dawned.

Fang, her best friend, had murdered her mother.

_In cold blood. Like the criminal he is._

If it weren't for him, she could have had a family, like a normal kid.

_A family who loved you, Max._

He'd done more than take her mother from her; he'd robbed Max of her childhood, of her right to be loved and love her parents..

_He deserves to die, Max. An eye for an eye._

Max felt the anger then, deep down in her soul. He'd killed her mother.

Avenge her, Max. Justice must be done. He had taken a life; now he must pay the price.

The anger started to surface; her shock only fueled it.

_Think of what you could have had, Max. Think of everything you missed... because of him._

A family. A home. A childhood like any other. A place where she wouldn't be a freak; a place where she could just be her mother's daughter.

_Kill him, Max. A life for a life. Revenge._

Max stopped her hands from where they'd been inching towards Fang.

_Kill him? No, no..._

She couldn't.

_You can. It will be simple... easy. Look at him. He won't even suspect before he's dead._

Slowly, Max looked at the boy next to her.

She saw a face that was usually as hard and smooth as granite crushed into lines of pain and sorrow. She saw tears in his eyes, glittering dark on his lashes as he stared at her feet, awaiting judgment.

_He's guilty, Max._

And suddenly Max knew that she could do anything. She could kill him or she could spare him; whatever she willed would come to pass.

_He took away your parents, Max. Your mother. She would have loved you, Max! Loved you so much._

Max knew she needed to make her choice. Now.

_Death._

_Death or life. Now, Max. Death..._

_No!_ Max thought, remembering, understanding, knowing. No matter what Fang thought, she did know him. Maybe now she understood him, but she'd always known him. And today on the beach, crying on his strong shoulder, she'd finally realized how much he meant to her.

"Fang," she said quietly, and he looked up, tears burning his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Max... please..." He was broken and old wounds were bleeding, but he continued. "She said... she said to tell you.. that she loved you." Any last resentment Max harboured vanished instantly, and she knew at once what she had to do.

"Fang," she whispered, leaning forward to look him in the eye. "I forgive you."

And in the dark of her mind, a Voice screamed: _Noooo!!! Max!!! I ... would ... have ... loved ... you!!!_

Then all was silent.

* * *

**_December 21, 2005_**

My eyes widened and I froze in shock. I hadn't expected these words. I'd anticipated anger, grief, bitterness... not ... _love_.

My mind faltered, not even wanting to think the word, but there was no other way to describe it; for what other than love would forgive even while knowing the full extent of my depravity?

_Love_.

I had opened up entirely, poured myself out completely and revealed every hidden thing. Every dark deed, every heinous sin she knew and I willingly confessed; yet still she forgave me.

Max loved me.

Not with a romantic love - at least, I was pretty sure her motivation wasn't from that direction - but with a real, complete love. They say love is blind, and indeed it is - for to forgive one must forget the crimes of the other.

My mouth opened in astonishment, but I couldn't speak. There was no way I could express the emotions that were flowing through my soul so long empty. Relief, exuberance, surprise, unworthiness, ecstasy, gratitude, all mixed up with a tiny bit of dread that told me this couldn't possibly be happening... none of these feeble words could describe the sensations.

Except perhaps one.

Life - and life with abundant joy!

I was flying over the mountains again, but this time I would never land.

"I'm not perfect, Fang," Max said, eyes soft in the darkness yet still sparkling with some inner light, something I hadn't seen from her in a long time. "I won't be able to forget completely, and I know this will change how I relate to you - but I want it to be for the better. I don't want things to be the same. I see now that I need to ... help you, if I can, and help the others and ... if I have to, even save the world. I'm still confused, more then ever since everything you've been telling me about the Plan and the Government and all that - but if I start not trusting you... well, I don't know what I could do then."

I felt something burning the backs of my eyelids and realized that they were tears. I blinked, trying to clear them away, not even knowing the last time I'd cried. Despite all that had happened, Max believed in me. She always had, and only just now had I realized it...

I leaned closer to her, straining to meet her eyes clearly in the dark. "Max," I said, and my voice was thick and strange, "Thank you. Thank you ... so... much." I ached to say what was in my heart, for some way to express the true and complete extent of my gratitude, but I knew it would take more than a lifetime to properly do so.

But at least now... at least now I had a life; finally I was alive!

I felt like a newborn again √ every branch of the tree looked sharper, each star glittered with a new brilliance, the touch of the wind delighted me as never before, and the movement of Max's hair in the breeze fascinated me.

Without a thought I grabbed Max's hand and pulled her to her feet. With a great leap I was airborne, and I snapped out my great wings. It was all I could do to wait until I was high enough to safely let out a cry of joy - I was _alive_!

I felt renewed inside and out, and the possibilities in this new Fang were endless.


	30. Part Three: The Aftermath

The cool air brushed her face as she pumped her wings to keep up with the dark boy ahead of her. She laughed because of his sheer infectious joy; she had never seen him like this, but this was good! 

Max felt a thrill run through her; just a few minutes before he'd looked like he was awaiting his own funeral, but now -now! - she laughed again, losing her grief in his joy. She'd forgiven him, after all, and though she would mourn her mother, now was not the right time. Now was Fang's time - and she felt honoured to be able to share it.

She flew up next to him and made a grab for his hand, but he twisted away, laughing like a ten-year-old. Max felt a small smile begin to curve her lips. Well, if he wanted to be that way...

Dipping a wing quickly, she turned in a tight circle and made a dive towards his right wing; but he was too fast for her and angled up quickly, playfully avoiding her grasp.

Max beat her wings rapidly and streamlined her body as she rocketed upwards, reveling in the delight of flight. She shot out her hand to touch him but he again darted away with the speed of a dragonfly. Max gave chase, remembering the times like this that they'd had when they had first learned to fly. Well, when she had first learned to fly. She hadn't known before why Fang was a better flyer than all of them; now she knew - he'd had a head start, the cheater!

Max felt a sly grin emerge on her face as she thought, _well, two can play this game.._

She let the heat overtake her and felt her wings beat faster and faster. Ignoring Fang's joyous cry of outrage, she poured on the power until she was next to him. He might flip around like an aerial acrobat, but he couldn't avoid her brute speed. With a triumphant yell she whapped his wing, then dashed away like a schoolgirl on a playground.

Twenty meters away, she stopped and yelled out the familiar childhood chant: "Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me!" Max giggled and dove, daring him to catch her.

A laugh echoed through the sky as they played under the bright stars, and the waxing moon smiled benevolent on their celebrations. No harm would visit them this night.

* * *

I flopped down on the grass, panting and exhausted. And hungry, very hungry. Flying sure takes it out of you.

Beside me, Max laughed breathlessly. I saw her face beautiful in the dim light, all the lines of weary worry erased from it - the way it should be.

We lay there for a time, catching our breath, just enjoying the night and each other's company.

It was magical. I was experiencing this all as if for the first time - and maybe this was the first time that I'd simply been still and breathed in another's presence. The first time I'd been able to set aside the hauntings of my memories and just _live_.

I wanted this moment to last forever.

But then Max jerked upright, eyes wide, and I immediately sprang to my feet, searching the darkness for danger. "What is it?" I whispered, voice intense as my eyes roamed the area.

She smiled suddenly, puzzled. "Fang," she said, wonder in her voice. "It's gone!"

I didn't know what she was talking about. But then Max turned to me, eyes bright. "It's _really_ gone this time, Fang! The Voice, it's gone!"

Slowly I sat down, relief flooding through me. I looked over at her and a smile stretched across my face. "Don't scare me like that again, Max," I said simply, almost joking. It had been so long since I had told a joke devoid of cynical despair; it felt strange and awkward, but I found that I liked it better this way.

But then Max told me what she had felt and seen when I had told her my story; how she'd seen parts of her mother's life that even I did not know, and what the Voice had said to her at the very end.

I was silent for a while, processing the information.

"Do you suppose the Voice was her, all along?" she asked presently. "I understand that the memories of her might have come from the chip" - and in a flash I saw Tanya's fingers curling across a computer terminal just before I moved the knife - "but how _could_ she have been the Voice, if she's dead?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But she would've had to know a lot about artificial intelligence to create that chip in the first place - maybe she found some way of preserving her personality in a computer. She was a genius, Max - but I don't know. Maybe someone else was the Voice; but does it really matter, now that it's gone?"

Max pondered this for a minute, then replied. "I suppose not - I wouldn't have obeyed it, anyway. I wouldn't have let it take over my thoughts or direct what I did. At least not in the long run."

I was glad to hear that, and told her so. I was surprised at how easily the words came out; after years of not telling anyone anything, I'd almost expected it to be harder.

So maybe now I could tell her the one last thing... maybe now I could finally let her know.

I looked over at her and gathered my nerve before I spoke the dreaded, beautiful words.

* * *

**A/N:** Send me your best guesses... I'd like to know how predictable I am :) 


	31. Part Three, The Aftermath, fin

**A/N:** I'm so predictable... but this chapter will probably still surprise some of you. Yeah, I have a different take on romance than most fangirls...

Anyway, this is the second-to-last chapter. The epilogue will be posted immediately after this... and eventually I'll get around to replying to all the reviews and doing a major THANK YOU post on my blog. And I will also make the entire text of this novel available for download there. Yeah, I'm too nice...but since I'm not making money off of this, why not?

* * *

"I love you, Max. I've loved you for a long time; I'm sorry I hid it from you for so long."

Max didn't move, startled. Part of her wanted to bolt away in embarrassment, part of her wanted to poke Fang to make sure it was really him saying those terrible, lovely words, and part of her longed for the statement to be true; but it couldn't be, not even in her wildest dreams...

"I... I just thought I'd let you know." Even though it was dark, Max could tell that he was blushing, if only from the extra heat radiating away from his body. Max swallowed nervously, surprised to find that her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"Ummmm... that's ..." Max silently cursed her brain that had just seemingly fled her body. She knew she ought to say something; she'd watched enough chick flicks and soap operas to know that this was the point where the girl in question would state how she returned the other's affection, and then they would kiss and live happily ever after.

Max knew she wouldn't live happily ever after, not with the whitecoats after them, not with the Government hatching a new Plan, not ever. But she really, truly, didn't know if √ no, not if, she definitely loved Fang, she just didn't know _how_ she loved him.

So how did she love him?

He was her friend, her best friend and brother. He looked out for her ... and she realised now that he always had. He'd been thinking of her even when he was flying over the desert; he was planning to come back for her, all along.

Max had thought she was over Fang. True, she'd had a crush, but that was last year, an eternity ago. They'd both aged and changed so much since then. Fang had changed in a instant tonight; Max had to admit that she didn't know this new Fang. She did think that she would greatly prefer him to the old one, but she wasn't ready to say that she loved him yet, not that way.

_Do you want to know the truth, Max?_ An echo of her mother's Voice surfaced in her memory, and Max held back angry tears.

Fine. The truth, then. He'd been entirely truthful with her; she would do no less for him. Because he deserved to know.

* * *

I'd expected to be embarrassed, I suppose. I was hesitant to some degree; I was shy, but not .. embarrassed by my admission. My face had flushed, I was sure, but more from the passion of my statement than any discomfort in the saying.

_I love you, Max._ It was simply something that needed saying, and I'd said it, just like I'd said so much today.

I just wanted Max to know how much I treasured her - so much so that I will always be there for her, and I did not say this lightly. I will give my life to protect her, and she'd gone too long without knowing it.

By this time I'd given up trying to predict how she would react. She'd already stunned me with her words of forgiveness; now nothing was impossible. Maybe she loved me, and maybe she didn't. I knew I was older than her, emotionally speaking - thanks to the whitecoats - and that she might not be ready for this. But what did it matter? Nothing would change, really. I might be hurt or ecstatic, depending on her answer, but I wouldn't stop loving, ever.

"Fang?" Max's voice was high and tiny, like a little child's. I looked over at her, meeting her eyes and trying to tell her that I wasn't trying to push her into anything.

"I...I'm glad," she said, and my brow furrowed. What did that mean?

"I've always needed someone to love me, you know," she continued, and now she didn't sound like Max at all; she was Maximum Ride now, the girl that was truly revealed when she stripped away the world-hardened outer shell to reveal the pearl inside. "I'm glad it's you. I want you to love me...and I think I want to love you, too."

My heart leapt and soared, and I almost did the same. The power of those precious words! It was too good to be true; it had to be...

"But ..."

I closed my eyes but kept listening. I would not do her the dishonour of ignoring what she had to say, no matter how much it might hurt.

"I don't think I'm ready," Max confessed. "I don't know about love yet. I mean, I know what everyone says, that it's good to have a boyfriend and experience all that stuff, but I'm not sure. I think... that somehow... love is more."

Her eyes held mine, and I could tell how she was pleading with me to understand, to be satisfied with her answer.

Max was flustered, I saw, and as was her habit she fell back into rapid-fire speech - not unlike Nudge, but people tended to pay more attention to Max.

"It's more like what you do than what you say, like I know that you'll do anything to protect me, and you've been doing it for so long, even... well, even when Tanya... my mother.. was .. well, you know? And I don't know what you mean when you say you've been so selfish, because you haven't really. You might not have talked, but what you did spoke volumes about how much you value us all...and I do think you're right, that that's real love. I just don't know... if I'm ready to love like that yet"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know if I can love like that. Give everything of myself away to care for someone else."

She looked so beautiful yet so young and innocent, there so honest in the early morning hours. I gazed into her eyes and saw the depth of her soul and loved her all the more for it.

I laughed softly and took her hand, no longer afraid, for what fear is there in love?

"Max, don't doubt yourself. You've been loving us all along, the whole Flock - always sacrificing your time and your efforts for us. Don't you see?"

Max smiled, a small, hesitant smile that was worth ten thousand of her fake sarcastic grins. "Thank you," she said simply.

Twining my fingers into hers, I whispered: "Wait for me, Max. And I'll wait for you, I promise. I'll always be there, and I promise it from the depths of my heart."

She squeezed my hand and a shock of electricity ran up my arm. "I promise," she said, and the first rays of the sun sent a golden glow over the horizon.

"But for now..."

We turned together to watch the sun rise. I looked at the girl at my side and knew she'd changed too. I would never be the same after tonight, and she had been transformed to something better, if only for an instant... but perhaps forever. She stood straighter than she had for months now, and there was a new set to her shoulders and strength in her gaze.

"For now, we've got a job to do," she continued, and there was steel girding her words.

I stood tall beside her and knew what she had done; she'd decided that it was time to end things. We'd suffered enough. It was time to take the offensive.

"Miriam Avraham?" I asked, glancing sideways at her.

"Yup."

I took her hand as our moments together faded away, as the new day dawned and we faced it with commitment renewed.

It was time to make things right.


	32. Postlude

That night I jumped off my cliff and only angel's wings saved me. 

How is it that hope in an instant can return to the hopeless, life to the lifeless?

I can't even begin to explain it. I'm not ever sure that I want to - because what use is there trying to analyze and dissect a miracle?

All I know is that my life changed forever. All I know is that I found something that day that I had never known before.

All I know is that that night I finally understood what it is to truly love.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, it's been fun! And it's been pretty long, too... a few final closing notes. Please bear with me.

First - there will be no sequel. And this will probably be my last work for this fandom. My main one is the Chronicles of Narnia section, though I also write for Stargate:SG-1, Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars.

Second - to all you lurkers out there, who have read this story without leaving a review: now's the time. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE type in a word or two - I'd like to know firstly that you exist and secondly what you think.

Third - go to my profile, click on the 'Homepage' link, and find the tab on the side that says 'Download Stories'. The Tempest, awesome cover art, nice formatting, and all, will be available for download there.

Fourth - THANK YOU SO MUCH to all my reviewers! You all rock!


End file.
